


A Stitch in Time...

by Arctica



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Manners, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bilbo feels rejected, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fili falls in love, Halls of Mandos, Khuzdul is a bit like Google Translate's Russian dictionary, Kili needs to grow up, M/M, More tags later, OFC - sorry!, Slow Build, Stubborn Dwarves, Thorin channels his inner Stannis Baratheon, Thorin is still sexy though, Time Travel, bad language, divine intervention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arctica/pseuds/Arctica
Summary: What if time could somehow be reversed to give Tauriel a chance to rerun the day of the battle? She would have another chance to save Kili and his family, but can she really escape the law of unintended consequences and keep him safe for long? Or will her happiness rely ultimately on the sacrifice of others? And in this new altered reality, who can she count on as a friend and who is really playing against her? For surely, an opportunity for Thorin’s family to find happiness is just another chance for their enemies to hurt them again...





	1. Wish Upon a Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not much of a purist, so my apologies to Tolkien and to anyone else if I get important background stuff wrong here. I’ve never read the Silmarillion so I’ve used good old Google to source stuff. With regards to my rampant butchery of Tolkien’s characters and plotlines, all I can say is I actually like Peter Jackson’s version better - flawed as it was (don’t hate me!)... In particular, I liked the interactions between Thorin, his friends, and his nephews, and I guess I wrote this to explore a version of what could have been if Peter Jackson had decided to fully ditch the source material and take it to more logical conclusions, instead of saddling us with a semi-original storyline coupled with the rubbish/depressing book ending? And by the way, I'm from England so this is written in UK English spelling. Sorry if that's annoying to people! :)

Lightning flashed and illuminated the wild Fall night. The trees on the lakeshore – those still clinging to leaves – were thrashing on the sheets of rain that tore down at them, while thunder rolled across the landscape, emanating from a vast black space somewhere over the violent water before reverberating back off the tall, lonely peak that stood behind her, assaulting her ears in stereo.

It felt like she was witnessing the death groan of some fallen giant. Like the sky and the lake and the mountain were all coming together to witness and mourn its passing, and she was just left standing here, all alone and uninvited to the full proceedings, unsure even of what had happened – just left with a blank and uncomprehending sense of loss, that lingered sour in her mouth like the taste of the lake spray falling on her face.

_Kili!_ _Where are you? Where have you gone?_

The elf turned her back on the crackling sky and the black lake, wondering if she could find any solace instead in the solitary mountain. It had been his home once, she supposed. And now it was his home forever: a huge, stone tomb to house everything that remained in this world of the one she had loved and lost, and there was nobody here left who cared except for the shrieking wind.

_The mountain where they buried him,_ she thought sullenly _._

It stood out now, against the sky, a perfect stone cone rising up from the plain, and she realised the lightning was closing in on it too. As a blue and yellow fork shot from the sky to aim at the Lonely Mountain’s summit, Tauriel felt herself hold her breath, waiting for something she couldn’t name to be released.

But the wind fell in a gust and the thunder cracked over her head, releasing nothing, and reluctantly she let her breath go, disappointed.

_The lightning can’t bring him back! He’s dead. Nothing can bring him back now!_

Tauriel cringed, and lowered her eyes to the pebbles at her feet. To her surprise, she saw she was walking in water - the wild waves were sending such flows up the shoreline, that small surges of lakewash were streaming over the shoreline stones, drowning them under a half inch of water.

_I didn’t even notice my feet were wet, how strange. So now the lake has joined up with the lightning and the wind against me..._

Tauriel frowned, and looked up at the Lonely Mountain again, as the lightning flickered crazily. The stone mountain-top, high in the sky, being burned by the lightning, in the heavy rain.

_All the elements are united here_ , the elf realised, in wonder.

She’d heard stories when she was very young about such elemental powers, of course. Her people had many stories about the seasons, the stars, and the weather systems that gave beauty and life to the physical world they inhabited: every event had its symbolic and magic correspondences.

But the union of the four elements was supposed to have a power all of its own. The legend said, that when the gods were angry (or sometimes very sad or even happy, depending on who told the story), they showed this to those that could read their signs by unifying the powers of the four castles in which they resided: the physical was united with the emotional with the combination of earth and water, and the intellectual was unified with the transcendental when air and fire combined. These dualities were common, and happened whenever the sea lapped upon the shore, or a flame twisted on the breeze. But the unification of three was rare and deliberate, and of four it marked something much more special.

_It means the gods will grant you a wish!_ she thought, remembering the childish thrill she’d felt when she’d first heard the legend long ago.

But her heart hardened in scorn against the follies of her youth.

_As if the gods care about Kili! They’re the ones responsible for his death in the first place. Isn’t it Vairë who weaves the rug of destiny? She could have used Her needle to stitch Kili a glorious destiny, instead of sticking it right through his heart!_

Tauriel realised she was angry, as she watched the lightning swarm around the mountaintop turret.

_And why shouldn’t I be?_ she scowled, glaring up at Kili’s mountain tomb. _Our love was real. We could have had a great storyline together! We would have owed that rug! Our threads would have intertwined and been beautiful. So why was I even written into his story just as She pulled his life apart and snapped his thread?_

The lightning struck the mountain again, and a colossal crash from breaking rock mingled with the thunder clap riding the wind and rain around her. Tauriel felt her red hair streaming in her face, and her green skirt raging around her, all billowing up towards the Lonely Mountain, as if the wind was trying to take her there. She closed her eyes.

_I wish..._ she began, feeling like a stubborn child. _I wish that Kili hadn’t died. I wish that his brother Fili, and his uncle Thorin, hadn’t died. I wish that they were all alive again, and that none of this had ever happened!_

At her back, the wind suddenly ceased, and Tauriel felt a momentary lull on the air around her, as the rain eased off. She waited for the crack of thunder to call her bluff as it blasted back into the mountain where her loved one’s body lay cold and dead, but the thunder didn’t sound. She waited a moment, but nothing came.

It seemed the storm had passed, or dissipated its energy at last. All she felt was a soft warm surge on the breeze as it blew down from the summit, bringing a sweet musky smell of charred stone and burnt moss into her face in reply to her prayers.

She realised she was soaked through, and thoroughly exhausted. She needed to sleep somewhere, but she couldn’t be bothered walking upto the ruined remnants of Dale, where most of the Laketown refugees still lingered.

_I’ll just sleep under the trees, by the shore – it’s fine now – the storm is over. It’ll be cold, but the cold doesn’t hurt me._

She staggered forward in her sodden clothes, and found a small hollow in the ground under a pair of old rowan trees. And as Tauriel curled up on herself for the night, she faced out to the lake, wanting somehow to keep her eye on the stormy water over night. But to her surprise, the lake surface was glassy smooth now, with hardly a ripple over it, and out across the lake a new crescent moon hung in the sky like a sly smile.

She shivered, and closed her eyes.

And sleep came for her quickly.

 

***   ***   ***

 

She became aware of it slowly.

There was a falling sensation.

Like falling asleep, but when she tried to jerk her body upright nothing changed. The blackness was still all around her, so she couldn’t see anything to be sure she was falling, but she knew it was true.

She remembered the storm from earlier, and the lightning on the mountain, and the moon hanging in the sky above her as she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she couldn’t remember beyond that.

_So I must be still asleep then, and this is my dream. But why is there only the darkness?_

Tauriel usually dreamed in colour. The elves had nice things to do and places to visit in their dreams: they didn’t waste their night-time hours falling into bottomless pits.

_Is this a bottomless pit? Isn’t that an oxymoron?_

Tauriel frowned, and she realised she could control her own body and feel her senses just as if she was awake.

_This must be a lucid dream then. I should think of something nice and concentrate on it._

But already a picture of the black-haired dwarf with the sword through his heart was forming in her mind’s eye, before she could try and push it away, and Tauriel felt her blood run cold as she thought she might have to relive it all physically again.

And yet she was falling still: no bad dreams came to her. She wasn’t returned to the Ravenhill tower. She was falling deeper into the blackness, and so she tried to focus on something bland and comforting instead. Like her favourite trees back in Mirkwood.

But they didn’t appear before her either.

_So this isn’t a lucid dream then, I can’t go anywhere else. What is this?_

In a flash she remembered her wish. The silly child’s wish she’d made in the storm, the prayer she’d made on behalf of the burning mountain. And as she remembered, she suddenly had the strangest feeling that she was _inside_ the mountain, falling into the very centre of the earth, falling so deep inside of it that she’d gone somewhere else and normal space was turning in on itself.

_I’m not falling. Everything is folding inside out!_

And as she became aware of what her senses were telling her, the feeling suddenly stopped.

The blackness had stopped: there was brilliant white light everywhere. It hurt her eyes to see it all, so she squeezed them tightly shut, but it didn’t stop the light – she could feel it inside her head, shining through her eyelids as if they were made of glass. It was beautiful and warming, but somehow too strong for her elven mind to witness, and she felt an odd discomfort seep into her bones in the glare of the white.

_“I’m sorry, I’ll turn the glare down for you, my dear.”_ She heard the words inside her head, melodic and feminine, and somehow she knew there was no real sound for her ears to hear.

Nevertheless, the whiteness receded slowly, and Tauriel was left standing in a cream coloured glow, in some vast, shimmering hallway, with high windows running the lengths of the walls beside her all the way to vanishing point in the distance. She turned around, admiring the view, trying to catch a glimpse out of the nearby windows but only able to make out copper clouds and a crimson sky... until she saw Them.

A tall, stern looking elf sat on a golden throne, holding a blue and green spinning globe. He raised an eyebrow to her in a cursory greeting, an aloof distain on his slender, bony features. Beside him, on a wooden bench, a pretty blonde woman with big, amber eyes smiled and waved. She was sat before a large loom, with the warp strung over the frame in delicate silver threads – and at the bottom of her loom, a moving, shifting, rotating pattern was formed from the weaving of her coloured, glowing weft. She held the ball of thread in her right hand, and it shone and pulsated with all the colours of the rainbow – plus a few other hues Tauriel couldn’t even have named.

The woman stood up as Tauriel approached, and clapped her hands together in greeting. “This is my husband, Mandos, and I am Vairë. I weave the threads together, and Mandos... well, Mandos gives me the patterns.” She smiled at Tauriel, and gestured to the scowling elf towering over her in the throne, but he just shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

Vairë turned to Tauriel conspiratorially. “I understand there was some problem with my tapestry? You wished that I had done something else?”

Tauriel eyed the woman cautiously. This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t actually be having a conversation with the Valar gods of all creation! It must be in her head. Maybe all the crying and grief she’d felt the last few days had finally taken its toll on her.

_I’ll just play along with the dream, and then it will all go away and I can wake up and tend to some more of the battle-wounded and make myself useful again..._

Tauriel cleared her throat, wondering why it was necessary to tell a god what she was thinking. Weren’t they all supposed to be omnipotent? Was this one just humouring her?

“My lady, I am... aggrieved... that you chose to use your threads to kill the one that I love. I think it was a bad design decision, and it will spoil your rug.”

The blonde woman’s smile became more fixed. “Tapestry, my dear. It’s a World Tapestry.” She exchanged a glance with her seated husband, but Tauriel couldn’t guess at what it meant. She hoped she hadn’t offended either of them already.

The woman sighed, her smile gone. “Look, I know why you’re here. People – all sorts of people – come here all the time! They tell me I’ve missed a stitch here, or used the wrong thread there – so that the sweetheart they wanted has got eyes for the wrong person. Or the well paid job that should have been theirs has been given to some other idiot. And it’s a mistake. It’s my mistake! It happens all the time. People can’t deal with rejection.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “They can’t deal with someone saying No to them!”

Tauriel glanced back and forth between the two deities, wondering if it would be rude to interrupt.

“Your grace, my lady, I’m not here because I cannot accept rejection. I... wasn’t actually rejected. You must know of whom I speak?”

The blonde woman nodded once, her amber eyes sparkling. “You love the dwarf Kili, son of Dis.” She cast her eyes over the bright tapestry on her loom, frowning slightly. “He was killed in battle by the pale orc three days ago. Along with his brother and uncle.” Her eyes lingered on her tapestry, reading something in the threads. “You wished that I undo this part of the stitching, to bring them back.” She raised her eyes to Tauriel, amused. “Very well, my dear. Tell me why I should do such a thing?”

Tauriel swallowed, wondering how she could convince a deity who knew _everything_ that there was something she had somehow overlooked.

“My lady, I feel an exciting possibility was missed when Kili died. We were in love, we could have married – we could have had children together. Our children could have united our peoples! We could have raised a family to use as an example to the world! That togetherness is better than – ”

But the blonde’s merry laughter cut her off. “Oh my dear, that’s a new one!” She fixed Tauriel with what seemed to be a genuine grin. “Do you think that, given your peoples’ history, that that is even a remotely likely happening?” She laughed again.

Tauriel was confused. If she was the Weaver of the Threads, couldn’t she make it so? Wasn’t it her call? So why was she laughing like it was a big joke to think that the stupid war between the elves and dwarves was an inevitability? She could take that glowing ball and make it so whenever she liked!

“My lady, I beg your pardon, but isn’t it up to you how you weave the tapestry? You could make the future be anything you like!”

Vairë gestured to her husband, as he eyed up their proceedings coldly from atop his throne. “It’s actually him that gives me the designs, my dear – and he gets them from his brother. It’s not my plan.”

Tauriel eyed the chilly-eyed Mandos, wondering how to appeal to his good side. “Is Kili with you now, my lord? Is he here somewhere?”

The elf-lord grunted. “He’s here all right. They’re all here – the dead. They’re all around us, even now.” He shut his eyes dramatically, tilting his head back as if listening to something far off. “He’s crying out for you, Tauriel. He’s been pining for you for the past three days!” He glared over at his wife, and she looked troubled.

“That can’t be right, he should have lost all memory of the living pastures after three days!”

Mandos grimaced. “I know! But I don’t care. That’s why I sent for her – I want his incessant pining to stop. Just redesign the three-days, and get him out of my Hall, will you?!”

Vairë scowled back at her husband, a look that didn’t sit so well on her fine featured face. “I’m sorry, my dear!” She gazed back at Tauriel, her look apologetic.

The red-haired elf swallowed, wondering what the deity had decided she was sorry about.

But the goddess turned back to her tapestry, and studied something carefully. “It could be done, in a way. But not just for your Kili – that’s not the way it works. I could send you back – back to before he died, right back to his fight with Azog, and with your memory intact as well – and you could try your luck at saving him this time. But there will be a price for it. And maybe a cost too?”

Tauriel nodded, hope rising in her heart all of a sudden. “What price? What cost? What do you mean?”

The goddess looked serious. “I need something of power, something that represents life, in order to reverse the tapestry and unweave what has occurred for the last three days! Do you know how much energy it takes to bind this world together?”

Tauriel shook her head. She really had no idea.

“Well, not as much energy as it takes to pull the threads apart, that’s for sure!” Vairë thought for a moment, weighing up some options. “I will need some of your life force, my dear. Not so much – you will still live to see the next age, if you take care of yourself in battle – but you will cease to be a true immortal, and this is the price you pay now.”

Tauriel considered. It seemed fair enough. What was the use of a few extra centuries when she was all alone, without the one she loved? “I see... but what is the cost?”

Vairë smiled darkly. “The cost comes later. Who can say what it will be now? The tapestry is not finished.”

Something in her words caused a sense of unease to awaken in Tauriel. What was she doing? Trying to rewrite history? Surely, by any reckoning this could only be a terrible idea! What if she changed things, and what happened was even worse? It would all be her fault!

_How can things be any worse? What difference does my foreknowledge make to anything else?_

Tauriel closed her eyes, trying to think through the implications of this. But she knew in her heart that she would accept Vairë’s terms – both of these deities knew it too. She just couldn’t turn down the chance to be with Kili again.

But what about the others? Fili was already dead when the fighting started – if she accepted these terms, then he could not be saved. The thought made her sad somehow. She liked Kili’s easygoing, blond sidekick – he’d saved Kili’s life and shown himself to be nothing but devoted and loyal to his younger brother – to the point of maybe even accepting her and Kili’s feelings for each other. And what about Thorin? While it was true that life without him around might be a bit... easier for her, she knew Kili loved the older dwarf. How could he be happy without his brother and his uncle? Could she really serve him up the lifetime of grief he would suffer on behalf of their deaths?

She cleared her throat. “I need longer, Vairë. I need to go back to before Kili’s fight with Azog! I need to save Fili too. What about another ten minutes?”

Vairë raised her eyebrow sceptically. “You do realise that more things will change in the world the further back I have to unpick my threads? And that means the price – and the cost – will rise!”

Tauriel nodded. “I understand that. I will pay whatever the price is, and the cost...”

“Will not necessarily be yours to pay!” said Vairë sharply. Now Tauriel knew she’d pissed off this goddess.

But Vairë was thinking, despite her frown. “For ten minutes – I can do it... but the price you pay is your entire elven life. When you go back, you will live as a mortal. You will live no longer than a common woman, Tauriel. Not even as long as Kili! Is that what you really want?” Her bright amber eyes shone with a sly malevolence, and Tauriel felt suddenly as out of her depth as a child trying to walk on the surface of the ocean.

“My lady, my grace, I do really want this! I thank you both for hearing my request, and granting my wish! I promise –”

“Hush now,” Vairë interrupted. “We haven’t granted you anything yet.” She turned slowly to her husband, and nodded to him. “The final decision belongs to Mandos, as always.”

Tauriel raised her eyes to meet the steely, grey gaze of the Lord of the Halls, not able to hide the desperation on her face. “And what say you, my lord?”

Mandos shut his eyes, weariness on his face. “Just do it Vairë. My brother’s plans will not be damaged by this change, not in the long run.”

His beautiful wife frowned intently at her psychedelic tapestry again, divining some future cause and effect in the shifting, throbbing patterns that drifted across the weft she’d stitched together. “There is one more thing, I’m afraid...” she began. “There needs to be balance in the threads, or the pattern will fail. And if the pattern fails... all life will fail.” She looked up, straight into Tauriel’s green eyes. “You can have your ten minutes, but it means that Azog and his forces will lose ten minutes.”

Tauriel blinked, not understanding, but Vairë anticipated her look of confusion, and continued. “After they have made their afternoon camp, I will hold their threads steady behind the warp. In effect, it will mean the orc forces are held up for ten minutes on your timeline. As if they are asleep, my dear. For balance.”

_So now I’ll have twenty minutes to save Kili and his family!_

The red-haired elf smiled to herself. Maybe she could do this, after all. Maybe she really could save him!

She looked up, and saw the beautiful, blonde goddess looking over at her with a curious expression of sympathy, as if she felt bad on behalf of the young elf . But it was the expression on Mandos’ face that chilled her.

He was grinning at her. A wide, toothy leer, devoid of any real warmth, with a trace of malice at the corners of his mouth.

The Lord of the Halls stared at her with his piercing grey eyes.“It seems you got your wish then, elf. I hope it’s worth the cost that shall be paid.”

And as Tauriel watched, fixed into position and somehow hypnotised by his flinty gaze, the rest of the room began to darken. First to orange, then to red, then to purple, and back to black again. But as the vision of the hall, and the crimson clouds, and the blonde woman faded from view, the two grey eyes of Mandos stayed fixed firmly in front of her, becoming larger and brighter, until she realised she was falling into them, and the world in front of her eyes became a grey haze, occluding everything and blanketing her thoughts like a wet mist...


	2. A Kingdom for a Horse

Tauriel blinked her eyes, feeling half asleep. She felt like she’d just woken from a deep slumber, but yet here she was standing on her feet, in the broad daylight. And there were people all around her – staring at her. One of them was barking some kind of order at her. She forced her eyes wide open and tried to work out what was happening.

King Thranduil seemed to be shouting something at her, from atop his best battle elk. He looked pretty pissed.

Tauriel put a hand up to her mouth, trying to stifle a yawn.

“I said you are banished from my realm – _forevermore_! Don’t you have anything to say to that at all?” Thranduil was glaring down at her with astonished fury in his icy blue eyes, a theatrical pout on his lips, while all around the other blond elves stood staring open-mouthed at her.

The memory of the past three days slammed into her mind like a lightning bolt. The banishing, the fighting, the dying, the endless grief... and the deal with Mandos.

_Kili! I need to save Kili! Where is he?!_

She looked around frantically, getting her bearings. She was in the ruined streets of Dale again. But she needed to move fast – she had to get to Ravenhill. And she had to do it before anyone wound up dead... but how?

She eyed Thranduil sceptically. “I need a horse!”

The king stared back at her, one hand on his hip. He seemed lost for words. And in no position to offer her a horse.

But she didn’t have time for any of this!

“Sorry, my Lord – I need to be somewhere right now! It was... nice working for you!” And with a small curtsey, she spun round and began jogging towards the battle. Surely she’d be able to find a stray horse between here and there?

The assembled elves turned to their king, and watched as his face went purple in fury. With an audible hiss, Thranduil raised a shaking hand to his forehead, and ran it slowly down his sleek, blond mane, staring after the redheaded guard as she broke into a run towards the battle field. Had she lost her mind completely?

Without a word, the elves turned back towards the homeward road, waiting for their lord’s orders. They knew better than to speak out of turn, especially when he was in one of these kind of moods.

 

***   ***   ***

 

“Thorin, are you _sure_ this is a good idea?” The hobbit looked up at the Ravenhill tower and frowned. The sun was in his eyes, shining brightly behind a curtain of cloud, and the whole building loomed darkly before him. There was no sign of any of the enemy signals.

Hiding behind the boulder beside him, his taller friend craned his neck to get a better look. “It would seem the orcs have abandoned the tower.” His voice dripped contempt – and Bilbo thought he could discern some disappointment too. He’d had a feeling Thorin was spoiling for a fight.

The dwarf king turned to Bilbo, a tender look on his face. “You should stay here, my friend. I don’t wish any harm to come to you.”

“Harm?” the hobbit queried, casting a nervous glance back at the tower. There was no movement inside - the place looked deserted.

But Thorin ignored him. “Fili! Kili! Take a look inside the tower, check whether it has been abandoned.”

Bilbo watched as the two young dwarves, bright and alert, nodded at their uncle’s command and started making their way towards the tower doorway. He was glad to be staying behind the big rock, and felt a knot of concern for Thorin’s young nephews, as they approached the shadowy doorway.

And Thorin himself must have felt it too. “Be careful! If there is anyone in there, come back at once and don’t engage!”

Without a backward glance, Fili raised his right hand in a thumbs up sign, and hurried to overtake his younger brother, unwilling that Kili should enter the black building first.

Thorin relaxed against the rock, a deep sigh on his breath, and the hobbit looked at him in concern. Bilbo for one couldn’t wait for all this fighting to be over, and then they could all go back to Erebor and stop worrying about each other all the time. He put an arm on Thorin’s shoulder. “What do you plan on doing now?”

Thorin turned to him and gave him a wry smile. “We’ll wait for Fili and Kili, and then – ”

“Thorin! Someone’s coming!” From several yards back down the trail towards the battlefield, Dwalin came running up to them. “It looks like an elf, on horseback!”

The dwarf king drew his sword instantly, his momentary calm replaced by the familiar glower. He turned back from the tower, on high alert.

But the only sound that any of them heard, as they stood there in the cold sunlight waiting for some sound of alarm, was the surging hoofbeats of the approaching rider, as she rode quickly into view. Bilbo recognised her instantly – it was the same red-haired elf from two days ago- the one that had locked them in the Mirkwood dungeon. Surely she wasn’t still chasing her quarry? Not even Thorin would be that stubborn.

But she had the air of someone in distress.

She was scanning the tower and surrounding grounds carefully as she rode, and when she noticed the three huddled figures hiding behind their rock, she slowed her horse instantly and jumped down, leading the big chestnut mare by the reins straight towards them. She didn’t draw her sword, or string the bow at her back.

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief.

Seemingly oblivious to Dwalin and Thorin’s pointed swords, she ran right upto them, thrusting the reins to her horse at Bilbo, who accepted charge of the big beast with a look of perplexity. “Where is Kili? And Fili? Where are they?” She stared at Thorin and Dwalin in turn, desperation on her face.

Thorin glared back at her, but Bilbo could see her words had concerned him. “How does an _elf_ come to know those names?”

But Tauriel ignored his question. “My lord, your nephews are in danger! This is a trap – are they in the tower?” The fear on her face was real enough, and Thorin’s face whitened as he turned back to look at the tall tower rising high behind him.

It was Dwalin that replied instead. “Aye- we’ve sent the lads in to scout out the tower, what are you trying to say? What trap?”

But this time, the elf didn’t even stick around to answer him. “Kili!” She ran towards the doorway, drawing her sword, and Bilbo felt himself swallow hard, alarm catching in his throat. He staggered forward to look at the building again, and noted dimly that both his dwarven companions had started running too, following the redhead as she ran screaming towards the tower.

_The whole world is going to know we’re here now! So much for the element of surprise._

Not wishing to be the odd one out, the hobbit drew his sword, and felt the vague sense of alarm he’d felt turn to full-blown panic as he saw the blade was shining blue.

_There’s orcs here, oh no! It really is a trap!_

And as the hobbit stared in horror at the glowing sword, he became aware of a commotion in the tower. Someone was shouting down at them. He turned, not really wanting to look, and saw Fili at the window, shouting to them.

But he wasn’t alone. Beside his small blond frame, a tall, dark-haired woman in a red dress stood waving to them, a smile on her face. Kili was nowhere to be seen.

Bilbo swallowed. Where were the orcs? What if they were sneaking up behind him?

Feeling suddenly very alone – and very visible with the big horse by his side, he trotted over with the animal to join Thorin and Dwalin, as they stood yelling up at Fili and the mystery woman. The elf was nowhere in sight – she’d already disappeared inside the tower, leaving the three of them standing around out here, exposed.

“Fili, come down now! Find Kili and come back!” Thorin was shouting to his nephew, watched over by Dwalin, who was eyeing up the approach-ways to the tower with tense suspicion.

Not wanting to appear weak and scared, Bilbo raised his sword skywards, trying to summon up some warrior courage by aping Dwalin’s stance. But the sword was silver again. Not bright blue.

_What? Where have the orcs gone? Is this part of the trap?_

He stared hard at the sword, wondering if he’d imagined it glowing out of nervous paranoia, when his regal friend turned to him with a soft smile. “You can put your sword down, Master Burglar. Fili says the tower is clear.”

“It’s not the tower I’m worried about!” growled Dwalin. “Look at all these boulders!” He gestured wildly around at the rocky landscape, smothered with dark shrubbery. “They could be hiding anywhere, waiting to ambush us when our guard is down.”

Bilbo followed the dwarf’s gaze and scanned the bushes warily. “Maybe we should go and wait for Fili and Kili in the tower? What do you think?”

Thorin eyed the horse by Bilbo’s side and opened his mouth to speak, his lip curling upward with some amusement at his little friend’s suggestion, but the budding smile was stillborn.

As the sound of happy voices reached the trio’s ears, Bilbo turned to see Thorin’s youngest nephew exiting the tower with the red-haired elf. But something was wrong: their hands were intertwined, and they were both smiling joyously.

Thorin scowled at the obscenity.“Kili, come here!”

Hearing his summons, Kili approached Thorin. With the elf in tow.

“Thorin, it’s fine! There’s no orcs in there. We checked it out. We –” but his uncle cut him off.

“Why are you fraternising with our enemy?” He glared openly at Tauriel, who seemed slightly offended by his choice of words. Kili just looked confused.

“Fraternising? But the orcs –”

“I don’t mean the orcs, Kili! I mean the elves. That elf!” he spat the words out, as if even the hateful word caught in his throat. “Or have you forgotten how she locked you up in the Mirkwood dungeons already?”

But Kili just grinned. “No, I haven’t forgotten.” And then – to Bilbo’s astonishment - the pair of them gave a little chuckle, laughing at some private in-joke at Thorin’s expense.

The hobbit winced, and braced himself for the inevitable Khuzdul explosion. But it didn’t come. Thorin’s eyes were back on the doorway, his attention caught by something else.

And as the hobbit stared after his friend, and saw Kili’s blond brother escorting the dark-haired woman from the tower, he understood instantly.

The woman was young – not much older than a teenager, Bilbo guessed, but she was strikingly beautiful. All dewy skin, dark curls, and ruby lips. Even the elf looked less lustrous in her presence.

Bilbo studied Thorin silently, noticing how his blue eyes followed the woman as she sashayed in her red dress towards their group, and he felt himself suddenly overlooked as his friend’s interest found a new home. He shrank towards the horse at his side, and stroked her mane nervously.

“Fili, who is this?” Thorin addressed his heir, but his eyes were still on the woman as his nephew led her forward. Bilbo noticed how Fili’s arm was round the woman’s waist. She seemed like she was upset – although she held her head straight and high.

The blond dwarf looked up at the woman questioningly, as if asking for permission. “This is Rose – I found her in the tower. She was a prisoner... Of the orcs.”

The woman bowed her head, and Fili rubbed his hand around her back as if trying to comfort her. She met his concerned, blue-grey eyes with a brave smile, and raised her head again towards the others. “My father and I were travelling to Laketown with our cart of tapestries – he was a rug merchant – my father.” The woman sniffed, and frowned. “But as our cart rounded a bend, we came upon a pack of orcs packing up their camp!”

Bilbo looked at the woman, and could guess the rest. The others could too, he reckoned, but they all drank in her words just the same, listening intently... All except for Kili maybe, who seemed too wrapped up with his elven friend to pay the woman much attention.

The woman bowed her head again and continued. “They killed my father with his own sword. And they stole all our gold. I tried to run away, but they caught me. And they told me I would fetch a good price as a slave, so they brought me here – they tied me up in this room in the tower and left me there... until Fili came, and cut me loose...” She smiled gratefully at her blond saviour, and Fili shone with pleasure.

Bilbo glanced around their little group, realising even Dwalin was watching the woman, wide eyed. He cleared his throat respectfully. “My lady, where are the orcs now? Are they still around here somewhere?”

The woman’s deep brown eyes locked onto Bilbo’s, as she noticed him there, behind the horse, for the first time. “I don’t know – I think they went to join in the fighting. They said they’d be back soon.” She shivered, and Fili held her closer.

Thorin took a step towards her, drawing himself up as tall as he could. “My lady, I am Thorin Oakenshield- the king of the great dwarven kingdom of Erebor. I am glad my nephew has found you unharmed. Please accept my sincere condolences for your loss.” He bowed to the woman in a gesture of respect, and she nodded politely in acknowledgement. “Please accept an invitation of refuge in Erebor, my lady. You will be safe and welcome there among us. Any enemy of the orcs... is a friend of ours.”

He smiled as the woman met his gaze, and she strode forward, slipping out of Fili’s arm, and reached out her right hand towards Thorin. The dwarf king stared at it for a second, and then extended his own hand and shook hers, as if sealing a deal like a common man.

The woman smiled deep into his eyes. “It would be a pleasure, my lord, to see your kingdom.” Her hand still lingered in his. “I do not dare to take to the road to return southwards now – and there is nobody left to return to anyway... now my father is gone.” She cast her eyes downwards, and Thorin released her hand and put his arm around her shoulder, steering her away from Fili and towards Bilbo and Dwalin.

“There’s no need for you to travel anywhere, my lady, you are more than welcome to stay in my kingdom. You will be our most honoured guest. Come now, the battle is over- the orcs have scattered now my cousin Dáin’s troops have arrived– we will return to my kingdom and find you some lodgings...” Thorin continued his monologue at the woman as he led her down the path that the dwarves had just come by- the one that skirted the battlefield and led back to Erebor.

It seemed the battle was actually over now for them after all, Bilbo realised. He found it slightly ironic, that the moment he’d been waiting for all day had finally arrived, and here it was, underwhelming and slightly disappointing. He watched his friend walk away with the younger woman, and looked mournfully at his remaining companions.

Fili stood watching his uncle with the same baleful expression Bilbo wore, but when he noticed the hobbit’s attention turn on him he quickly rearranged his features into a nonchalant smirk, and motioned to Dwalin for the two of them to follow on. Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure my uncle Thorin will let you stay in Erebor too- now that you’re banished from the Woodland realm forever and all. He really _can_ be reasonable – you’ll like him. When you get to know him.” Kili was evidently trying to reassure the flame-haired elf, who stood staring after the dwarf king and the woman with an ashen face, looking bereft.

“Her father was killed...and it’s all my fault. Those ten minutes... they would never have ran into the orcs... _before_!” she whispered.

Kili looked up at her in surprise, and squeezed her hand. “You can’t kill every single orc under the sun, even though I know you want to! But now you’ve come back to me... I think the two of us together can take on anyone.”

Tauriel turned to him, as if suddenly remembering he was there beside her, and squeezed his hand back fiercely. “Oh Kili, I’m so glad you’re here.” And then she stooped down to his level, and kissed him hard on the lips, her red hair falling all about their faces and blocking Bilbo’s startled view, before he had time to look away.

_Should I wait here for them to stop? Should I ask her if she wants her horse back? Maybe I should leave now with the horse, and just let them get on with it!_

Bilbo looked up hopefully at the big mare, and began gently trying to lead her onwards. Until she put her head down with a casual snort, throwing the bit forwards in her mouth, and nearly taking his arm off. He dropped the reins, and squeaked in alarm.

“I’m sorry, are you alright?” the elf broke away from her entanglement with her dwarven friend, and threw the hobbit a concerned glance. Seeing he was having trouble, she stepped forward and took the reins back into her hand. “Thanks for looking after her – you’ve done a great job. But I should take her back now. She’s feeling spooked after everything she’s seen today, poor girl.”

Bilbo and Kili exchanged a glance, as the elf stroked at the mare’s long brown neck, whispering something in elvish under her breath. To Bilbo’s eyes, it seemed that the hazel eyed dwarf was ever so slightly red in the face – he was sure he was not imaging it – and the hobbit was faintly amused.

Kili cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “I don’t know if you two have met? Tauriel, this is Bilbo Baggins of the Shire – he is one of our company, and a good friend. And Bilbo, say hello to Tauriel, _formerly_ of the Mirkwood Guard!” The dwarf finished with a flourish, and a grin.

Bilbo raised his eyebrow. “Formerly?”

But the elf shrugged. “There’s a story there, if you care to hear it.” She met Kili’s eye and smiled. “I’m sure everyone will have heard the story by sundown, so maybe I can fill you in, Mr Baggins, on our road towards Erebor?”

The hobbit nodded, curious now, and eager to catch up with Thorin and the rest of them. “That sounds like a _very_ good idea, my lady. Let’s get out of here and get back to some safety. It’s way past dinner-time!”

 

***   ***   ***

 

By the time they reached the gates of Erebor, nearly an hour later, Bilbo could feel his stomach dissolving itself. Just how did these people expect a hobbit to survive on one breakfast alone? And that had been _hours_ ago!

Along the way back, in between listening to Tauriel’s all-too plausible story of upsetting King Thranduil, he had caught snippets of Thorin bragging to the woman about a great victory feast that would be laid out tonight in celebration, and had begun salivating at the prospect. He hoped fervently it was true: Thorin did love a good boast, but could usually be relied upon to come through on his outlandish promises. His sense of honour demanded it. And everyone else’s sense of his temper usually ensured it.

“And this, my lady, is Erebor – the greatest dwarf kingdom that has ever been, and ever will be!”

Bilbo watched the dwarf king, with his chest puffed out, showing off his prize possessions to the young woman like a back-street hawker, and felt a wave of bitterness. How fickle he was, to be taken in by a pretty face like that! How did it go again? That line from the famous poem? All that glitters is not gold?

_Clearly, it’s a poem that has never been appreciated by my Khazâd friends here. But what can you really expect from a culture that elevates gold-digging to fine art?_

Bilbo sniffed, and hung back a few steps so Kili and Tauriel could catch up with him. They were walking along, hand in hand, so that Kili’s arm was bent double and the elf was holding onto it like that of a child, her horse’s reins in the other. She looked like his big sister.“Is your uncle always like this around women?” he demanded. “I thought dwarves valued facial hair in a prospective partner?”

Kili looked rather taken aback, and the elf beside him chuckled at his discomfort. “I don’t know? Most of them like beards, I guess, but Thorin... has rather _exotic_ tastes for a dwarf, as you well know. But he’s the king! He can do what he likes! I’m not judging!”Kili looked slightly panicked, as if his allegiance to his uncle was somehow under suspicion.

Bilbo caught the elf’s eye and she smiled innocently back. “I suppose he’s... not the only one. With exotic tastes. In your family, I mean.”

But Kili looked worried. “Yes, but I’m not the king!” He squeezed Tauriel’s hand, and Bilbo felt quite sorry for them all of a sudden. He tried to find some words of reassurance.

“I’m sure your uncle will be understanding, Kili, he’s – ”

But the hobbit was cut off mid-platitude by the sound of the heavy Erebor gates opening before them. From the front of their party, Thorin spun round and raised his arms.

“My friends, we come home at last! And tonight we shall celebrate as dwarves the greatest day in our history, along with our friends and allies.” He aimed a charming grin towards Rose. “Let’s get ourselves home and bring Erebor back to life!”

The party started forwards with broad smiles. Although Bilbo suspected it was perhaps the thought of a good wash and a hot dinner that enthused most of them more than the historicity of their occasion.

“Not you!” Thorin spied Tauriel at the last minute, before she slipped through the gates with her travelling companions, and swaggered forward to block her way. “This kingdom is not for your kind.”

Immediately, Kili dropped her hand and strode right upto his uncle, and Bilbo half imagined he was about to punch the king, so firm-set was his jaw. “Uncle please, she is our friend! She has fought on our side since we left Mirkwood – Thranduil has even banished her from her home.”

But Thorin didn’t appear to listen to his younger nephew. “No elves, Kili! They can’t be trusted.” He regarded Tauriel’s wide green eyes with a sneer. “They tell you all kinds of things, but their words mean nothing to them. And before you know it, they’re stabbing you in the back.”

Thorin made to turn round, as if dismissing Kili’s thoughts on the matter, but the hobbit knew he was underestimating his nephew. He wasn’t the only one in his family that could be stubborn.

“I’m not going in unless she comes with me!” Kili declared, folding his arms defiantly. Thorin froze mid-turn, then cocked his head to regard the younger dwarf with a glacial glare. In Khuzdul, he growled something under his breath at Kili, but his nephew remained unmoved.

The rest of their party had stopped and were peering round nervously. Fili and Dwalin exchanged a loaded glance, and Kili’s elder brother marched back towards his uncle and brother, positioning himself in between them and holding up his hands. He muttered something conciliatory in their language, earning a glare and petulant cursing from both of his kin.

_I’m so hungry! Can’t this wait till after supper?_

Bilbo wondered what he could do to help speed the process on a bit, but it was difficult when he didn’t even know what they were saying. It sounded angry – but from the small amount of dwarvish he’d absorbed on his travels – so did anything when you said it in their language. And whatever else he might have excelled in, listening to reason was not one of King Oakenshield’s strengths. Some kind of baser play was needed here, he thought.

The hobbit stared at his companions, hoping that inspiration would strike one of them before Thorin and his heirs started a brawl at their historic homecoming. Dwalin was staring sheepishly ahead, obviously unwilling to get directly involved, and the woman – Rose – just stood there blinking in surprise. He tried to catch her eyes, and she stared back at him suddenly with a frown. He raised his eyebrows at her pointedly, hoping she would take the hint.

Bilbo took a deep breath. “Er, Thorin?”

He was met by three pairs of aristocratic eyes glaring at him for his intrusion. “Thorin, don’t you think it would be worth just letting her in? I mean, if Thranduil has banished her, he’s going to look pretty foolish if she just comes marching in here! With your nephew. Of all people.” Thorin’s glare intensified, and Bilbo took another quick breath. “I mean, it kind of undermines his credibility, doesn’t it?”

Thorin looked like he was going to spit in disgust. “His credibility? And what _credibility_ is that?”

The hobbit thought. “Well, it’ll make him really angry, at the very least!”

But the dwarf king shut his eyes, and took a deep breath, as if he was explaining a simple concept for an idiot child. “I don’t care what that fool king thinks, I care about what my people think! I don’t want them to scorn me because I have allowed an _elf_ – ” he pointed his finger towards Tauriel, “ – into _my_ kingdom!”

“And what about what I think, Thorin? What about what your family thinks?” Kili spoke in a soft voice, as if he was hurt. “Do you not care how we feel?”

Thorin rolled his eyes, and Bilbo thought he was about to say something he might live to regret, when from behind him, the woman stepped forward and put a hand on his back.

“My lord, a king should not be overly concerned with the opinions of others. A king must do what is right. For himself. And in time your people will learn to respect the wisdom of your decisions.” Rose purred the words into his ear, and for a second, Thorin looked quite at peace with himself. And then the angry grimace returned once more.

“And whose opinions do you suggest I discard, my lady? Those of my people, or those of my own kin?” He smiled bitterly. “I can’t please them all, so maybe I shouldn’t try to please any of them!”

But Rose just rubbed his shoulder gently with her hand, as if soothing an angry dog. “I think you should listen to your nephew, my lord. Because above all, a king needs loyalty. From his heirs.” She stared directly at both Fili and Kili with her big, deep brown eyes, and Bilbo wondered if she was vaguely threatening them, but dismissed the idea at once. That would be crazy, after all.

Yet her words seemed to have an effect on Thorin. He eyed his nephews with a colder, appraising view, as if suspicious of them already. “Yes, perhaps you are right, my lady.” He turned his back on his family, gazing up approvingly at the woman with a new respect. “Let the elf come through then. But it shall be on my nephew’s head if she steps out of line!”

And with that, he took Rose’s hand, and the pair of them went marching through the gates, followed at a few steps distance by a confused looking Dwalin.

The two brothers regarded each other with a questioning look, and then Kili slipped his arm back into Tauriel’s. She looked upset. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble between you and your uncle, Kili! I just didn’t think he would... hate me so much.”

The dwarves both gave a harsh laugh, and Bilbo snorted. “I thought he was in rather a good mood – that woman managed to talk him around easily enough.” The hobbit stared at the ground.

“I don’t like her. I don’t trust her.” Fili met their eyes in turn. “I don’t like the way she talked our uncle around.”

Bilbo smiled sadly. “He’ll be over her by tomorrow, Fili, you know what he’s like. He doesn’t listen to anyone for long!”

Thorin’s heir watched his king walk away, arm in arm with the pretty woman. “I hope you’re right.” He gave Kili a meaningful look, and his dark-haired brother nodded grimly.

“Come on then, my lady,” Kili gave the elf a squeeze, “let’s find somewhere to stable the horse and then let’s get you somewhere to sleep tonight. I want to have a good, long soak in a bath before this dinner is ready!”

The elf gave him a sly smile. “Do you need my help with all of those things?”

Bilbo caught Fili’s eye, and the blond shook his head and started walking towards the gate, the hobbit close on his heels.

_At least I’m going to be fed soon! I’m so hungry, I could eat that horse._

But then he remembered the woman’s cold, brown eyes, and wondered how much of an appetite he was really going to have, watching his dear friend fawning over her all night.

_Come on! Everyone is just tired, and hungry. Everything will be alright after dinner!_

Bilbo heard the gates come crashing in behind him, as their little group of stragglers entered Erebor.

_I mean, how much trouble can one woman cause?_


	3. The Food of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's victory celebration dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not meant to be gratuitous, but there is some bad language in this chapter, so apologies to anyone who dislikes that sort of thing!

The hallway was dark as they entered, with only a few candles perched in rough alcoves along the stone corridor to light their way. The four big candelabras had been set by the dinner table, and as Sigrid and her father neared the soft, warm glow they felt their normal vision returning and looked for their seats on the long side of the table.

Not that there was anyone to guide them in – there was no sign of anyone else in the great hall yet, but they had been told by one of Thorin’s party – an old dwarf with a long white beard – to sit at the places marked by the two silver coins. So they shuffled closer to the table, and discovered an array of jewels had been laid out as place-markers. Plus three silver coins.

“Does it matter which places we sit at, Da?”

Bard turned to his daughter and shrugged. “I suppose not. The seating arrangement can hardly be important. Let’s just sit closer to the middle of the table.”

Sigrid returned her gaze blandly to the table and selected the silver seat closest to the middle. She had a feeling her father knew as little about formal dinner parties as she did, and cared even less for dwarven social etiquette.

From the dark corridor from which they’d come, another white-haired dwarf appeared, fussing in the doorway with a jug and some glasses. “Good evening, friends! I am Dori, and I have some wine for you. Only...” He cast a backward look into the shadows. “I hope you don’t mind pouring it yourself, I’m trying to get the rest of them to come in and get seated.” He shook his head quickly and muttered something under his breath in Khuzdul, then darted over and unceremoniously dumped the wine in front of them.“It’s not easy, you know.”

Sigrid watched him as he wandered back towards the darkness. She was sure she could make out voices from further down the hallway, and she listened to see if she could recognise any of them. She didn’t really know any of these people – and she had no idea what to expect from this. Were they going to be involved in a bawdy drunken celebration, or was it more of a pretentious state banquet? Either way, she didn’t want to stay out too long. Her younger siblings were being looked after by their old Laketown neighbour, but she knew that if their nightmares woke them up, they would be looking to her for comfort, and she intended to be home. Her father could manage fine without her help if this was just another drinking party...

Her father poured some of the dark liquid into their glasses, and she took a sip of the wine. It tasted sweet, and strong, and she wondered where it had come from. Did the dwarves have an ancient wine cellar stored away in the vaults of Erebor, or was this part of the meagre rations they’d been able to salvage from Laketown? She took another sip, trying to see if she could guess its age and vintage, but she had no idea really. She didn’t know anything about wine. Or much care for it either.

From behind her, she heard the voices getting louder, and saw more dwarves filing in. She regarded them curiously, and recognised at once the handsome, dark-haired figure next to the tall, red-haired elf. They’d been in her house. They’d helped her family escape. She shot them a friendly nod as they seated themselves on the corner across from her, and they both smiled back.

“How is your leg, Kili?” she asked, wondering if she was pronouncing his name right.

“It’s much better, Sigrid. Thank you. I’m sorry again for all the trouble we put you to, you and... the rest of your people.” The dwarf glanced at Bard, who was looking at him seriously, and Sigrid cleared her throat.

“Kili, you’ve met my Da, haven’t you? Da, this is Kili and his friend Tauriel.” She fixed her father with a careful look. “They helped save us from the house when it went on fire. They’re my friends.”

Bard reached out a hand towards the pair on the corner and addressed the elf at Kili’s side. “My lady, I am Bard of Laketown – so they’ve started calling me, anyway. It’s enchanting to meet you, but what – may I ask – is an elf doing here at Thorin’s feast? I was under the impression that Thranduil had abandoned us all?”

The elf’s green eyes seemed to widen, and she looked down at the table for a second before replying. “Yes, that he did.” Tauriel took a sip of her wine and Sigrid thought she saw the dwarf reach an arm around her back. “I am no longer welcome in his kingdom, so I represent neither him nor my people. I chose to fight on Kili’s side in the battle. Against the orders of my king.” She raised her eyebrow pointedly at Bard, and moved closer into Kili’s embrace.

Sigrid felt a pang of sympathy for them both, and beside her, her father whistled softly. “That must make you both very popular around here. I’ve heard of how much Thorin’s kind hate the fair folk. Why has he given you both a seat at his table?”

Kili looked at Sigrid and Bard in turn, and saw they were merely curious. He sighed. “Well, it’s hard for him not to, given that I’m his nephew and second in line for his throne.”

Bard met his gaze at once. “You’re kidding?”

But Kili just shook his head, his face darkening. “No, unfortunately it’s true.” He gestured quickly around him, at all the other dwarves who were trailing in and sitting at the table. Most of them seemed to be studiously avoiding looking his way. He whispered bitterly across to Bard and Sigrid. “I think this is part of the punishment, actually. He’s trying to show me how little everyone thinks of me now!” He grabbed his glass of wine, and angrily took a swig.

Sigrid caught Tauriel’s eye, and smiled at her. “I could always come round and sit on your other side? It would be nice to have some female company.”

Tauriel grinned back at her. “Thank you, Sigrid, but I fear we are meant to stay here for now – at least until the dinner is served. We have our place holders specially arranged!” She pointed to Kili’s white crystal gemstone, one of four round the table.

Kili sniggered. “Yes, I gather these ones are just for my family. I could have chosen to sit at Fili’s place instead, but I think this one is meant for her.” He reached for Tauriel’s place holder, and in front of the candles waved a lump of coal up at them.

Sigrid felt herself laughing, glad she had found at least one dwarven ally. “But that’s ridiculous! Whose idea was this? Let’s just swap the things around, nobody will notice!” She threw her silver coin gently across at Tauriel, and scooped her wine glass so she could walk to the other side of the table.

Seeing that her new friends were on the verge of protesting, she scurried round quickly to sit beside the elf, flinging the golden coin back at her father, who laughed as he placed it at the now vacant chair.

She patted Tauriel on the forearm. “It’s better like this, I’d rather talk to you anyway.”

As the final few dwarves stumbled in, the excited chatter around them seemed to grow in volume. Sigrid watched as the fussy old dwarf who’d left them the wine took a seat next to her, nodding politely her way as he sat down, while a young, thin dwarf with long brown hair and a nervous energy took her former place by her father’s side.

He nodded shyly at her from across the table. “Hello, Miss, my name is Ori. How do you do?”

Sigrid extended her hand to him, but the dwarf looked at it uncertainly, then snatched it without warning and planted a small kiss on the end of her fingers. Sigrid stifled a laugh, and tried to look serious. “I’m very well, thank you, Ori. My name is Sigrid and I am... well, I _was_ from Laketown.”

Ori looked up at her with his bright, brown eyes. “Oh, you must be Bard’s daughter then? I heard you were coming. It’s nice to meet you.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “We don’t get many ladies coming along to dine with us very often.”

Sigrid was unsure how best to reply, but smiled back warmly anyway. “No, I suppose I’ve never been to dinner with a bunch of dwarves either, so please mind my manners if I do something wrong.”

But the dwarf just looked and her and giggled disconcertingly, as if she’d made some kind of funny joke, and then turned to speak to the dark, moustache-sporting companion on his right. She tried to catch her father’s eye, but saw he was now talking to a particularly small and hairy dwarf specimen sitting on his other side by the third silver coin. And beside the hairy creature, right on the corner, she recognised Kili’s fair-haired brother.

Sigrid regarded him quietly, his face animated in conversation as he conferred with Kili and Tauriel, and was struck again by how handsome he was. For a dwarf, at any rate. But she remembered him from her house too – how brave he’d been fighting off all those horrible creatures that had come pouring in to kill her and her family. And how he’d carried her off to safety, securing her in the boat beside her little brother and sister, before going back inside to help his friends.

_Fili, that’s his name..._

As she watched him, the dwarf suddenly looked her way and caught her staring. Instinctively, she looked down, embarrassed, but when she looked back up at him he was still looking at her, smiling. He waved his hand at her, and she felt the colour rise in her cheeks, hoping sincerely that he wouldn’t notice in the candle-lit darkness.

Fili started to say something to her, but before he could start, there was a commotion behind him, and he turned round sharply.

“ – must be mad if you think I’m sitting on the far side of the table!” A short, stocky dwarf with a long flowing ginger beard was shouting at a taller, darker dwarf who looked down at him with angry blue eyes. There was something in the taller dwarf’s features that reminded her strongly of Kili, but the silent rage on his face was all his own. Sigrid had a feeling she already knew who this was.

“Cousin or not, Dáin, do not think to speak to me like this in my own hallway, in front of my own guests!” Thorin thundered down. “There is no insult implied in the seating order, I am merely thinking of my lady’s comfort and that your brother-in-law Bolli may sit beside you through dinner!”

Sigrid was confused, and felt herself frowning. Nearby, she heard Kili laughing sharply, before a stern look from his brother silenced him. Across the table, the hairy creature spoke wearily. “Let me guess, Thorin wants to put the woman in Dáin’s seat at head of the table?”

Fili looked round, puzzled. “How do you know that, Bilbo? I didn’t think you’d been to a _Khazâd-uzhin_ before?”

The hobbit raised his wine glass and knocked back a large gulp. “It was just a guess.”

But evidently Dáin was still not appeased. “How about _your woman_ sits next to _my brother-in-law_ , and _I_ sit next to _you_ at the Second Seat? I’m your lead banner-man and cousin, and the honour of our fathers demands it!”

“Do not speak to me about honour, cousin. Not when you had so little faith in my quest from the start. And do not claim your father is dishonoured by this – I offer you the seat opposite mine, so that you may sit with your countryman and we can direct the conversation around this table as befits our own kind. While we are in the presence of others, I am placing you as my equal.”

Dáin snorted, and shrugged his shoulders. “So be it, cousin. I will not stand here and argue any longer with you. Even to discuss this offends my dignity.” And with a toss of his head, Dáin marched over to the far end of the table, to sit beside a particularly muscular, brown-bearded dwarf who watched Thorin with a glower.

With a smug smile to cement his supremacy, Thorin glanced over his shoulder. “My lady, are you ready?”

The conversation round the table hushed as Rose stepped out of the shadows and glided towards the table. She had on a beautiful, golden dress – and Sigrid wondered where she could have possibly found it, as it was far grander than anything she’d seen any of the Laketown ladies wearing. Her hair was braided in knots, and pinned on top of her head like a dancer would wear, with a few loose tendrils fluttering freely around her soft face at the front. She looked radiant, and she moved gracefully and slowly towards her seat beside the king.

_And doesn’t she just know she’s beautiful_ , thought Sigrid critically. _Even my own father is staring at her like a fool – and all the dwarves too!_

She looked around the table, and saw that both Kili and the hairy creature – Bilbo, she’d heard him called – seemed unmoved by her entry. Even Tauriel sat watching her, with a distant, faraway look on her face. Her eyes sought out Fili, noting that he was sitting with his back to the woman, and did not react at all.

_Interesting_ , she noted. _Maybe he’s not into women either._

As Thorin and Rose took their seats at the head of the table, Dáin’s voice boomed out from the bottom of the table. “I see, my lady, that you are as lovely as I had heard. Please accept my apologies for any... _misunderstandings_ on my part. I was labouring under the delusion that this was a dwarven feast, a Khazâd-uzhin, to celebrate our dwarvish forces’ victory over our enemies. I didn’t realise it was open to all of Thorin’s favourite _tavern regulars_ as well.”

Sigrid looked from Dáin’s red face, as he raised his wine glass with a sneer, to Thorin’s thin-lipped smile. “My guests are the future, Dáin. Erebor needs to have allies, and since so few of our own kind have thus far supported me – I thought it was time to make new alliances.” Thorin rose to his feet, and raised his glass, staring coldly at Dáin as he waited for everyone around the table to stand. Dáin was the last to comply, with a shake of his head.

Seeing everyone standing and waiting for his signal, Thorin beamed at his guests around the table. “To Erebor, and our new friends!” And he raised his glass skyward.

Sigrid watched, slightly appalled, as the dwarves used the toast as an opportunity to empty their glasses and bang them on the table for a refill. She took a small sip of hers and sat down quickly, before anyone could accuse her of shirking her drinking, and saw her elven friend beside her did the same.

From out of the shadows, serving women appeared carrying jugs, and set about refilling the dwarves’ glasses around the table, while others carried silver plates of bread, roast vegetables and meat. Sigrid recognised some of the women from Laketown – she’d heard her father say Thorin was paying generously for their services. And their food. As if gold would be much use to her people once the winter snows came!

She shielded her glass as the women approached, and helped herself to some food from the plates as they were passed around. The dwarves were evidently very impressed by the meat course, and even the hairy little Bilbo seemed to be happy as he stuffed a whole roast potato into his mouth. His plate was piled high with large helpings of everything, and Sigrid wondered how on earth such a small creature could ever manage to eat it all.

_We shouldn’t be wasting all this food! What are we going to do when it runs out? I’m pretty sure it won’t be King Thorin and his pretty lady who are going hungry!_

She tried to catch her father’s eye, but he seemed deep in conversation with Thorin’s nephews, so she vowed to raise her concerns with him before his council meeting tomorrow. As the representative of Laketown, Sigrid hoped he could keep hold of his temper if Thorin started being antagonistic. Their people needed him to stay cool and rise above the dwarves’ petty tantrums. But since her mother’s death, he always seemed to on the edge of another angry outburst...

“What do you think that red-bearded dwarf meant by tavern regulars?” she asked her elven friend. “Was he insulting my father?”

Tauriel put down her knife and fork, and took a quick glance down the table at Dáin. “I think it was more aimed at Rose. Dáin just feels insulted, that’s all. So he’s just trying to goad Thorin in return.” She shrugged, and smiled half-heartedly at Sigrid. “I guess I’m lucky he’s not noticed me yet!”

Sigrid bit into a breadcake thoughtfully. “I don’t know why Thorin’s got to insult anyone, isn’t this supposed to be a party? Isn’t it supposed to be fun?”

Tauriel watched as Thorin skewered a carrot with his meat knife and raised it to Rose’s lips, allowing her to nibble on it delicately. “I think he is having fun,” she explained.

“So, _cousin-in-law_ ,” came a call from the bottom of the table, “could you explain to us how you have come to this interesting alliance with our elven _friend_ here? Dáin and I were under the impression that Thranduil had rejected our generous offer of peace?”

Sigrid knew at once who he was referring to, and from the corner of her eye she noticed Kili stiffen and take Tauriel’s hand under the table cloth. She turned her eyes coldly to the brown-bearded hulk by Dáin’s side, and then back to Thorin, now nonchalantly skewering a potato with his steak-knife.

“You are correct, Bolli. The Mirkwood king remains hostile to our kingdom, and cannot be counted on as a friend – although this will shock few of us here. Indeed the wizard, Gandalf, has ventured into Mirkwood in an attempt to change the mind of that silky-haired _durachit_ and bring him to our meeting tomorrow, but I fear he is wasting his time.” Thorin dipped his roast potato in a puddle of gravy on his plate, carefully covering all the edges with a coating of the thick sauce.

“So to answer your original question, I would say that this elf – the lady Tauriel – is here on the express wishes of my youngest nephew. He claims that she can be trusted, and if he is proven correct then she may be a useful ally to my kingdom.” Thorin bit into the potato casually, nodding his head as if savouring the taste. “As I said, we need new alliances.”

Dáin and Bolli exchanged a frown. The red-bearded dwarf looked confused. “And why would your nephew think such a thing, Thorin? Kili –” He turned his face to his younger kinsman on the corner. “Why do you vouch for this elf and invite her to our dinner table?”

The table went deathly quiet and all eyes turned on Kili. With a small nod of support from his brother, the dark-haired prince sat up straighter in his chair, and met their questioning stares defiantly. “This elf saved my life, and has been fighting on our side since we left Mirkwood! She –”

“– And why would she do that?” Dáin cried, incredulous. He stared at the red-haired elf sitting beside Sigrid in astonishment.

Tauriel cleared her throat. “My lords, I –”

“Look how close the two of them are sitting! She must be Kili’s bit of stuff!” Bolli jeered, pointing his fork at the pair on the opposite corner. “Kili is a _zver-fucker_ , just like his uncle!”

Sigrid didn’t know any Khuzdul, but she understood the meaning easily enough. She heard Kili’s sharp and angry intake of breath, and saw Fili’s jaw drop in an expression of outrage, while Thorin’s chair thudded to the floor as he jumped to his feet. With a howl of fury and an aim that would have made an archer proud, Thorin loosed the potato from his knife towards the leering Bolli, and struck him square in the eye. The potato smashed on impact, and gravy poured down the brute’s face.

But Bolli was unrepentant. “That’s very kingly of you, Thorin! Look at you preening yourself beside that woman! You’re a disgrace to the honour of your mother. Or was your mother a dirty _zver_ as well? Maybe you’re not fit to be the King under the Mountain, if all you’re going to do is fill the mountain with filthy foreigners!”

Sigrid caught her father’s eye, and saw he was scowling in displeasure. Surely this was aimed at the pair of them, along with Tauriel and Bilbo?

But the rest of Thorin’s company was in uproar. All around the table they turned on Bolli immediately, and pelted him with whatever was on their plates. Few of them were as accurate in their aim as Thorin however, and so Dáin, and even Dwalin and Balin who sat on the corner beside the guests, were showered with soggy potatoes, cauliflower florets, and roast mutton.

As a well-paced carrot clipped his nose, Dáin rose to his feet and raised his fists to the sky, shrieking an ugly dwarvish curse, while Bolli upped the ante, throwing his entire plate down the table and catching Bilbo, Fili, Rose and Thorin with the splattered debris as the plate smashed against the far wall.

Thorin drew his sword, and leaped at once onto the dinner table, but Rose, wiping traces of mashed potato from her cheek, grabbed him by the waist and tried to pull him back down, as Fili attempted to wrestle the sword from his uncle’s hand.

Sigrid shook her head, disgusted.

_What a waste of our food! These people are like children!_

She looked around the table, wondering how to stop this farce before someone actually got hurt. Inspiration striking, she leapt to her feet and blew the big candles out on the candelabra beside Kili and Tauriel’s corner, then tiptoed round carefully to the corners surrounding Bolli and Dáin’s end of the table, and blew them out hurriedly – watching to dodge any incoming missiles. Amazingly, the dwarves round the table were still too absorbed in their dispute to notice the room was getting darker, so Sigrid ran onto the last lights behind Fili and blew the candles out one by one.

As darkness fell in the room, the voices around her suddenly grew muted, and Sigrid felt all eyes turn to her as they realised what she was doing.

With a puff, she blew out the last candle, and breathed a sigh of relief as all activities ceased.

“I might be just a _zver_ , but I think _you_ all need to calm down! This food was bought from the people of Laketown, and you’ve wasted enough of it to feed a family for a month! You should all be ashamed of yourselves.” She realised she was shaking, and stumbled over to where she thought her father must be in the darkness.

She heard him cough, and edged towards the sound. “I’m going home, Da. I think it’s time someone went to check on Tilda and Bain.”

“Someone get the lights back on!” she heard Thorin yell, followed by feet scurrying along the corridor towards the dining hall. A serving woman came in with a glowing candlestick, and stopped still in shock as she uncovered the first signs of the food strewn all over the floor.

Bard turned towards his daughter’s voice. “I think that’s maybe wise, Sigrid. Only, would you mind waiting for me? I need to find out about this meeting tomorrow. About whether it’s still going ahead.”

Sigrid saw the serving woman begin to light the candles up again, and felt a sense of weariness. “No, you stay here and talk to the dwarves. I think I’d better leave now.” She took her father’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll see you back in the _hovel_ , Da.”

She took a final look around the wrecked dinner table and all the muttering, angry dwarves. Catching Kili and Tauriel’s eye, she smiled and nodded at them as she turned to leave.

“My lady, let me escort you home.” To her surprise she saw a fair-haired dwarf approaching her in the semi-darkness.

“You don’t have to trouble yourself, my lord. Stay here with your family.”

She started walking towards the corridor, wanting to get away from these people as quickly as possible, but she saw he was following her.

“Please Sigrid, I wanted to apologise.”

She stopped walking, and allowed him to catch up with her.

“You don’t need to apologise to me, Fili. It wasn’t your fault.”

She could see his face now, as they approached the little alcoves where the solitary candles sat. He looked uncomfortable, and she wondered why he was bothering to speak to her.

“But I am ashamed. I’m sorry for all the trouble my people have brought to your doorstep, Sigrid.” He looked at her in the dim light, and she could see his troubled expression. “First we get your city burnt down, then we break all the promises we made to you, and then... even after all your kindness, we insult you and your help yet again.” He shook his head sadly. “You must really hate us.”

Sigrid looked at him carefully, wondering how to be diplomatic. “I don’t hate your people, Fili. I think you’re sometimes just a bit... _difficult_. That’s all.” She tried to smile at him, but he wasn’t looking her way. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of working relationship eventually – I mean, our peoples used to be close, didn’t they?”

She saw him nod his head. “So I’ve heard.”

They took a few more paces in silence, and Sigrid began to feel uncomfortable herself. “Listen, Fili, are you going to this meeting tomorrow?” She pursed her lips in scorn. “Assuming it’s not going to start another war or something?”

Fili turned to her and frowned. “Yes, I’m afraid so. My uncle has named me as his heir so I’m expected to go along to these things and... learn from his example.” He sighed, and Sigrid found herself chuckling.

“Lucky you! Well, I don’t know if you can help me, Fili – but I’m kind of worried right now about how things are going for my people.” She saw that he was looking at her earnestly, so continued. “We don’t have much left after the fire. I don’t know how we’re going to manage over winter! And I don’t trust your uncle – or my father, actually – to be able to make a sensible plan.”

Fili looked perplexed. “But your father seems like a good man, Sigrid. A man who wants the best for his people?”

Sigrid nodded. “He is. And he does. But he has a temper on him. He’s –” she stopped, wondering if she should really be divulging all this to Thorin’s nephew. What if he used it against them? How could she trust him?

_I need to trust someone around here! And so do they. Even Thorin said they need friends too!_

“He’s been miserable since my Mam died. It was a couple of years ago, but he’s still not the same... he can behave quite irrationally when he thinks people are being underhand, or insulting him.” She sighed, not wanting Fili to think badly of her father. “I used to think he’d get over it and go back to his old self, but I think that part of him died when she did.”

Sigrid stepped along in the dim light, and Fili said nothing. She wondered if she’d been too candid with him, and was about to apologise, when he turned to her and patted her lightly on the arm.

“I understand, my lady – my own father died several years ago, and I know my mother has never been the same since.” He looked at her cautiously as they approached another candle. “Grief affects all of us the same.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, Fili. I had no idea.”

He met her eye. “You don’t have to apologise for anything, Sigrid. It wasn’t your fault. It just... makes you appreciate the family you have left. No matter how they behave. No matter what they do.” He shrugged helplessly beside her. “I have to look after them as best I can.”

Sigrid nodded. “I know what you mean.” And she paused as she saw they were nearing the gates that led out of Erebor. “I need to go back now, and check on my brother and sister. You don’t need to come out into Dale – it’s fine – we’re right outside the gate!”

Fili started to protest, but she shook her head. “They’ll never get back to sleep if they see you come in.” Acting on a whim, she reached down and took his hand in hers. “They think you’re a hero after what you did back in the fire.” She smiled into his blue-grey eyes – the same colour as hers, she realised – and gave his hand a squeeze. “Go and check on your family, Fili. They need you.”

She heard the gate open behind them, and she felt her cheeks redden again as he took a step closer. His eyes met hers and she saw they were soft and clear. “My lady, you have my word that your people won’t be forgotten. I swear to you.” He squeezed her hand slowly in return, and the two of them stood still, wondering what should happen next.

After a few awkward seconds she dropped his hand. “Goodnight, Fili.” she whispered, and without a second glance she turned and walked forward towards the cold, night-time air.

She concentrated intently on putting one foot in front of the other, wondering if it was the wine that was making her stagger like a drunk, until she heard the gate swing fully shut behind her. She stopped and closed her eyes.

Out here in the cold, she could feel the heat on her cheeks, and she felt her heart skipping in her chest.

_I need some sleep. I’ve had too much to drink, far too much excitement, and I’m tired. That is all!_

But as she made her way to her new home in the ruined Dale cottage, and crept into bed beside her sleeping little sister, she remembered the look of sweet surprise on Fili’s face as she’d held his hand, and she smiled to herself in the darkness.


	4. Vows made in Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin holds his council meeting, and some unpopular decisions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get a bit smutty from here on in... And also, this should hopefully be the last kind of 'set up' chapter I have to write in this story :)

Thorin took another sip of the red wine and closed his eyes wearily. It had been a long day, and he was more glad than he would care to admit that it was now over, the disastrous dinner notwithstanding. Despite Bolli’s grudging apology for his disgraceful slur on Thorin’s good name, the mood at dinner had never recovered, and everyone had limped off to bed after the cheese course. They hadn’t even started on the hard liquor.

_Why do I have all these uppity kinsmen trying to tell me what I must do? I’m the King under the Mountain! I have the Arkenstone! They must respect my authority._

After Sigrid’s angry outburst, Thorin had felt some small degree of shame – but then the lights had come back up and he’d seen Dáin’s brother-in-law’s ugly little rat face and changed his mind. He was just sorry it hadn’t been a knife he’d thrown at the impudent cur’s throat. But then again, Dáin might have been upset by that, and that could never be allowed in Thorin’s kingdom, could it?

“What is vexing you, my king? Are you still thinking about that spiteful dwarf from dinner?” Rose peered up at him from the floor where she sat in a white smock, rubbing his feet with a perfumed oil.

She’d promised him the fragrance would remove the tension from his body and mind, but so far he thought the wine was doing a better job of that. And Bilbo would be doing a better job at a foot massage. Not that it was unpleasant to feel her soft hands on his body – it was just a shame they were on his rough, calloused feet.

“I don’t want that dwarf at my meeting tomorrow. I know my cousin will bring him along – he wouldn’t dream of offending his _kinsman_ after all!” Thorin raised the wine to his lips with a scowl. “Dáin knows I need his forces to keep Erebor safe – if the orcs come back I can’t see them off with just twelve dwarves. He’s taking advantage of me, and hides it by lecturing me about _honour_!” Thorin knocked back another helping of wine, and sat further back into the stack of pillows piled high on his bed.

On the floor, Rose gave him a sympathetic nod. “So why don’t you get the Laketown men to fight for you? Didn’t they help you in the battle today?”

Thorin nodded. “Those that could, yes. But they’re not fighters, Rose, most of them can’t even hold a sword properly! They’d do more battle damage if I armed them with fishing-poles and mattocks.”

But Rose looked thoughtful. “Are you sure the King of Mirkwood will not assist you? If your wizard has gone to speak with him, then maybe – ”

“No! We will find no help from him. Thranduil would rather see my kingdom burnt down and over-run by orcs than offer me friendship!”

The woman poured some more oil at his feet, and rubbed it slowly between Thorin’s toes. “I’m sure you’re right, but would he wish the men of Laketown to suffer the same fate? Surely he has more cordial relations with King Bard? Couldn’t you join forces with Bard and use him to make the alliance with Thranduil for you?”

Thorin sat up straighter and opened his eyes. “I would need to offer Bard something in return.” He set the near-empty wine glass on the headboard and tried to make a mental inventory. “I have lots of gold, but I don’t know how much it means to a man like Bard. If he’s anything like his scolding daughter, then he’ll be more concerned with the welfare of his people.” He met Rose in the eye. “As am I! I know none of us have enough to eat for winter, but until we may trade freely there’s nothing I can do about that!”

“Of course, my king.” The woman moved her fingers over the balls of his feet, and Thorin shivered suddenly. “And I think you are right about that man. His family seem quite... _principled_. Maybe you need to give Bard a longer term incentive to back Erebor?”

Thorin half-closed his eyes again, starting to enjoy the massage. “What do you mean?”

Rose hesitated, and Thorin heard a note of caution in her voice. “You could propose a marriage? Between his daughter, and one of your nephews?”

But Thorin just chuckled softly. “I think you’ve had too much elvish wine, my lady. It can make anyone quite soft-headed.”

The woman at his feet said nothing, but he felt her hands grip his ankles, and start kneading at the tight calf muscles on his lower legs. “Will you tell me what’s wrong with the idea, my king?”

Thorin wondered where to begin. “Neither of my nephews would agree to it, for a start. Kili is infatuated with that traitor elf, and Fili is my heir – and will marry another dwarf lord’s daughter in good time to further our line. Anything else would be beneath him.”

Rose pondered this in silence. “So you would have Fili marry within the dwarf nobility, to cement another political alliance, but not marry a noble woman – to cement a political alliance?”

“Well, yes. It’s not my people’s custom to marry into... foreign races.” Thorin sighed as he felt her fingers kneading deeper into his tense muscles, working him up and down in big, sweeping strokes.

She looked up at him from the floor and smiled – her big, brown eyes framed by her long, black lashes. “But I thought you said you were doing things differently? To build new alliances? That you didn’t care about the opinions of others?” He felt her hands around his knees, edging up to the hem of his tunic and sliding around his leg to caress the muscles lying free of the bed.

Thorin smiled absent-mindedly. “Fili would never agree to it. It would insult him to be pawned like a stud bull at a cattle market. It’s not our way.”

“But it is _our_ way, my king. It is how _men_ do things.” Rose gripped his lower thighs with her oily hands, and began to gently part his legs at the knee. “If your heir is loyal to his king then he will do as he is bid, and nobody who you _need_ right now would think badly of it. Maybe those spiteful dwarves – ” Thorin felt her push his tunic up ever so slightly, “– from dinner would have something to say about it, but you’d have no reason to care for their feelings. You wouldn’t _need_ people like your cousin...”

He felt himself sigh as her fingernails raked deliberately up the inside of his thigh. “Not when you have people like me. Trust in men, my king. Let us be your allies.”

Thorin found himself nodding. He had to admit, there was a certain, simple appeal to her idea. What better way to show Dáin he would not be cowed by their people’s frustrating traditions in his newly resurrected kingdom? They would all of them respect his authority, or be gone from Erebor. It was true that Fili might well object, but the lad could usually be made amenable if his role in serving the greater good was emphasised. And at the end of the day, what difference would it make to him?

“I will... propose this match at the meeting tomorrow. If Bard will deliver Thranduil, then so be it.”

Rose smiled at him, and rolled his tunic up all the way to his hip with her soft hands, as far up as it would go with him sprawled on the bed like this, and Thorin felt suddenly light-headed and rather exposed. He wasn’t wearing anything under the tunic.

He tried to look at her, but her face was half hidden by her dark halo of curls, engrossed in her work. He felt her warm breath tickle on the top of his thigh as she lowered her head down towards his bare crotch, her hand cupping him intimately.

Thorin shuddered at her touch and stifled a groan.

“Do you trust me, my king?” she crooned in a honeyed voice.

And then Thorin felt her mouth, hot and wet, enclose around him, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. She was good at what she was doing, and part of him wondered how a respectable young woman came to know how to please a dwarf so efficiently. Bilbo was perhaps better, but he did have certain advantages that Rose did not possess...

But a larger, growing part of him didn’t care. “Yes, Rose,” he whispered.

He felt her hand withdraw from his body as a sudden cold shock, and heard the soft rustle of clothing. And then her greasy hand returned to priming him, sliding up his cock slowly, surely and methodically.

“Do you want me?” she murmured, and Thorin felt a rush of blood behind his eyes and a brutal tension building up in his groin. He was becoming exquisitely aware of the warm mass of her body around his knees, and wanted her to bring her warmth closer to him. To share her body with him.

“Yes, Rose,” he groaned.

She shifted her weight and kneeled before him on the bed, straddling his thighs. She was naked now, and Thorin stared at her tanned, taught stomach and grasped at her breasts, feeling for her pink nipples and squeezing them steadily. He wanted her now, but she was sitting too high, her longer legs lifting her warm core just out of his reach. He squeezed at her harder, frustrated.

“I want you too, my king,” she moaned, “but I don’t want to get into trouble.” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “If we do this now I will conceive your child, my king, and be forever in disgrace, unless...”

“Unless what?” Thorin rasped.

Rose spoke softly in his ear. “Make me your queen, my king.”

Thorin saw his opportunity as she leant over him. He grabbed at her buttocks, and pulled her down forcefully onto his cock so that the woman cried out in surprise as the dwarf king took full possession of her.

“You give me a son and heir... you can have whatever you want!”

And as Thorin thrust himself inside her again, frantically trying to rock the rising heat out of himself, he remained totally oblivious to the cold smile of satisfaction that spread across his lover’s watchful face. Until she was certain enough of his sincerity to give him what he needed and ride him on to his end...

 

***   ***   ***

 

Kili yawned and rapped his knuckles on the heavy wooden table, bored and unaware of his brother’s look of disapproval. For the fifth time in the past thirty seconds, he cast a hopeful glance at the meeting room door, willing it to open and his uncle Thorin to come marching through so they could get this ordeal over with.

He lolled back in his chair and sighed. He had no idea why they were making him come to this – he had no authority to make any decisions and seemingly even less social reputation among most of the dwarves now that they all knew about his relationship with _the elf_.

He knew Thorin would probably want to rub his face in the fallout somehow, but he’d thought business would trump petty revenge in his uncle’s plans. He’d felt the tension in the room rise the minute he’d walked in behind his brother. Surely this wouldn’t help their negotiation strategy? Not that he was aware there _was_ a negotiation strategy...

“Ten minutes late he is now, I’ve a good mind to go to his room and drag him out of bed myself!” Dáin was obviously also bothered by Thorin’s absence, and Kili briefly wondered if there was anything that didn’t annoy the gruff-voiced, stocky old dwarf. He seemed to exist in a perpetual ball of rage, offence, and grudge bearing.

 _Just like all the rest of them_ , Kili thought indignantly. _And they wonder why I’m rejecting their ways! I don’t want to grow up to be an angry old crank like Dáin or my uncle._

He saw his brother look discreetly round the table, trying to gauge if any of their guests needed mollifying, and Kili followed his example. Bard and Gandalf looked peaceable enough, sitting with their hands clasped in front of them at the far end of the table – a picture of reasonable diplomacy – while Fili and Balin, sitting on his side, seemed more fidgety in their movements. No doubt they were wondering what Thorin was playing at now, seen as how it would probably be them who had to pick up the pieces.

More cautiously, Kili ventured a glance across the table at Dáin and his kinsman, noting with satisfaction how Bolli had come off the worse from last night’s battle with the potato – the detestable dwarf now sported a black eye to go with his dour looks. The pair of them were looking impatient and angry. He suspected it was only a matter of time before at least one of them brought up the subject of _the elf_ , and Kili could guarantee that Bolli would encounter something harder than a root vegetable if he insulted her name again.

With a sudden discordant creak, the heavy door was thrown wide, and Thorin strode into the room, sitting himself down at the head of the table. To the shock of those in the room, he was followed by the dark-haired woman, who closed the door gently behind herself and found an empty seat by the king’s side. She stared down the disbelieving faces calmly, as if daring them to object.

“My friends, thank you for your patience. I understand we have much to discuss and time is short. I would like to start by reiterating my sorrow at last night’s misadventures, and thank Bolli son of Hvoar for apologising so humbly for his errant behaviour last night.”

Kili smirked as Bolli’s face grew redder, but the ugly dwarf had the good sense to keep his head down and stare fixedly at the table. Gandalf caught Kili’s eye and raised a grey, bushy eyebrow in consternation, prompting Kili to try and affect a veneer of innocence.

Thorin paused briefly, checking each of the guests around the table for signs of discontent, then continued. “As you all know, we have many important matters to discuss today – we have little food stored for the approaching winter, we have one enemy in the shape of Thranduil of Mirkwood on our doorstep, and we have reason to believe there may still be a sizeable party of orcs roaming freely in the vicinity of Erebor.”

The dwarves all looked to Bard and Gandalf in turn, wondering what news they could bring to the table, but Thorin was obviously not yet finished. “I also have one small announcement that will be of interest to you all, but first I think we should listen to our wizard friend for news of Thranduil’s court. What say you, Gandalf? It would be most welcome to hear some good news right now, but I scarcely can believe it possible.” The king motioned to the wizard, and Gandalf nodded his head seriously.

“Thank you, Thorin. As you all know, I have just this morning returned from a parley with the elven king, to discuss trade terms and the possibility of a military alliance.” Gandalf looked around, checking he had their attention. “On one point, King Thranduil was very clear: there can be no discussion with Erebor until the gems of Lasgalen are returned to Mirkwood. I believe they are family heirlooms of his, and their safe return to him is a prerequisite before terms will be discussed.”

Kili looked to his uncle, half expecting him to dismiss the elven request out of hand, but Thorin looked to be deliberating. Finally, he nodded. “It would seem to be difficult to refuse such a reasonable demand. But how can I be sure Thranduil will grant me an audience once I have returned these _gems_?”

Something in his voice made the hairs on Kili’s neck stand up, and he worried briefly whether his uncle – or King Thranduil himself for that matter – might consider Tauriel as another trinket to be traded with the elves for advantage.

But Gandalf met the king’s question with calm indifference. “There are no guarantees, Thorin. But surely payment of any gold that they may _think_ you owe them would be a prudent step in securing King Thranduil’s goodwill.”

Thorin frowned, and Kili heard Bard clear his throat. “Let us not forget the matter of the gold that is owed to the men of Laketown, King Thorin. We are entitled to a share of it, with which we need to buy food to feed ourselves over winter.”

The king nodded slowly, as if considering something. He looked to the woman by his side, who waved her hand dismissively. “Erebor will honour the debt it has to Laketown.” Thorin began. “But as I see it, you have no need for full payment right now. Surely it would be wiser to leave your gold safe in our vaults, and for me to transfer enough to negotiate a supply of food from Thranduil?”

Bard began to shake his head. “My lord – ”

“– And if you would share this food with Erebor, and negotiate some military assistance from Mirkwood too, then maybe we could unite our two kingdoms more formally?”

Kili peered at his uncle, wondering what he was doing. Was this a ploy to keep Bard’s gold for himself? Everyone knew Thorin had a problem parting with his favourite shiny baubles.

“And how would you suggest we do that, my lord?” Bard asked sceptically.

Thorin looked around the table and let his eyes settle affectionately on Kili’s fair-haired brother. “By my nephew and heir marrying your daughter.”

Kili blinked and wondered if he’d misheard. He saw his brother sit up in shock, and fix his blue-grey eyes onto his uncle’s face in confusion. “Thorin?”

Bard looked to the blond dwarf, seeing his surprise. “What say you to this, Fili?”

Fili’s eyes widened as he stared at the table, and Kili could read in the way his jaw jutted out that he was uncomfortable with the idea. Finally, he looked up, and turned to Bard. “Your daughter is an honourable and beautiful woman, my lord – but I cannot imagine she would be happy in marriage to a dwarf?” And with a rather pointed tone, that Kili suspected was for his uncle’s benefit, he elaborated: “ _Most_ women neither desire us as husbands nor as fathers to their children.”

Thorin smiled thinly. “So it is Bard’s decision then, Fili? You consent to this match?”

The blond dwarf took a deep breath. “If it pleases my lords. And the lady Sigrid.”

Bard smiled appreciatively at Fili. “I will ask her this evening, Fili, and you shall have your answer by nightfall.” He saw the curious expressions that some of those around the table wore. “My daughter knows her own mind; she will either like the idea,” he stared at Fili appraisingly for a second, “or she won’t.”

Kili gazed at his older brother in sympathy. They’d always known there was a risk that political marriages would figure in their lives, and Kili had always been adamant that it was something he could never accept. He suspected that Fili might feel the same way, but was too proud to admit it and go openly against their people’s precious traditions.

His intuition told him however that Fili was not entirely displeased with the choice of bride. Kili had noticed the way his brother’s eyes had settled on Sigrid last night, and her appeal to his brother was obvious.

 _How awkward for him if she refuses his hand – and how much worse if she accepts but hates him for it afterwards..._ Kili shuddered, yet again feeling enormously grateful for being the younger of Thorin’s nephews.

Gandalf cleared his throat. “There may be one issue with your plan, Thorin. I fear Thranduil will have few soldiers to spare at the present time. His kingdom is under threat from fell forces on all sides, and I think it unlikely that he would help you in this way – even if wanted to.”

Thorin turned to Bard, dismay on his face at the wizard’s news.

Seeing their dilemma, Dáin spoke up. “My friends, perhaps you forget I already have a small army installed at Erebor. It would be possible for me to leave you some hundred or so dwarven troops to guard your kingdoms, and they would be more trustworthy than an army of Thanduil’s troops. I could arrange for supplies to arrive over winter from the Iron Hills – I believe we have a surplus this year from our farmlands.”

He turned to Thorin. “I would do all this gladly for you, as you are my kinsman, Thorin Oakenshield. But there will obviously have to be some recompense for my people.”

Kili rolled his eyes. _Obviously. Because our kind never shares with anyone, even our own kin, unless there is something in it for ourselves._

But Thorin – and Bard too – looked interested in Dáin’s proposal. “What is it that your people seek, cousin?”

Dáin looked around the table. “They would settle for the same terms you offered Bard earlier.” He smiled. “Although we have enough of our own gold.” He turned to Fili, who had frozen in his chair. “Your eldest nephew and heir will marry my eldest daughter, Eyrun. And their first son shall inherit Erebor... Is this to your liking, Fili?”

All eyes turned again on the blond dwarf, who stared back at them like a trapped animal. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, and locked his eyes on Kili and then Thorin in silent appeal. Kili watched as his uncle gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, and saw Fili’s eyes fall to the table.

“If you will provide us all with enough food for winter, my lord... then yes. It is to my liking.” He said flatly. Kili stared after him, trying to catch his eye, but Fili kept his gaze downcast.

And for once, Dáin looked jubilant. “That’s settled then! I shall escort Eyrun to Erebor after the winter snow is melted, and you two shall be married on the first full moon of Spring. And when I return to the Iron Hills later today I shall leave you some one hundred troops, with thirty wagonloads of food to be delivered to Erebor all winter long – whatever the weather will bring.” He looked to Thorin and Bard. “I trust this shall be enough?”

“I think it should be, my lord” replied the king of Laketown, looking to his counterpart for Erebor, and receiving a gracious nod. Thorin even ventured a smile. “Assuming we are not facing another army of orcs on our doorstep, then yes. It is very generous of you, cousin.”

“I am glad it pleases you. And now Thorin, what of this mysterious announcement you said you had to make?”

Kili couldn’t take his eyes off his brother, who was still staring forlornly at the table. He felt a sudden urge to run over to his side, and shake some sense into him before it was too late.

Thorin rose to his feet. “I would like to announce my engagement and intention to marry.”

Kili looked at his uncle, stunned. He heard gasps all around him. Even Fili was staring at Thorin, incredulous.

His uncle continued regardless. “Erebor should have a queen, and I should have a wife. It is more... _fitting_ for a king that way.” He beamed down at the dark-haired woman. “And I have chosen Rose to be that queen.”

 _Fitting? A week ago he was an avowed bachelor, with a special sideline in hobbits – now he wants to marry a woman he met yesterday? That woman?_ Kili stared at Rose, watching her obvious enjoyment despite the dwarves’ discomfort. _This has to be her doing! Fili was right about her!_

But Dáin Ironfoot looked coldly at the woman. He was no fool. “Thorin, if you are serious about this, then do the sensible thing. Name Fili to be your heir, whatever half-breed offspring you may sire with this foreign woman!”

Rose glared openly at the red-bearded dwarf. “You should show some respect to your king in his halls, my lord. And towards your future, _half-breed_ king as well.” She stood at the head of the table, towering over the rest of them. “And you should show some respect to me,” she hissed.

Her words had little effect on Dáin though. “And why is that, woman? Why should I show you respect when you insult my people in this way? By slinking in here with your pretty face, and trying to steal away the kingdom that my people built from scratch with their blood and toil?” He shook his head. “This is a shameful day in our history, friends.”

“Are you finished, cousin?” Thorin queried. “You who worked so _tirelessly_ to reclaim this dwarven kingdom from the ashes, and who would steal it yourself through your grandson?” He laughed contemptuously. “My heir shall remain Fili, up until the day that Rose gives me a son. As is our _tradition_.”

Kili regarded his brother in concern. _And what if she has no son? What then?_ He felt sudden concern for Fili, and wondered what the woman might be capable of in order to cement her clutches on their throne. _And what if I do have children with Tauriel, and they become heirs in turn, standing in her way?_ The thoughts chilled him. _What about Thorin, even?_

Deep disquiet gripped his heart. _Someone needs to put my uncle right about her!_

And his kinsman, Dáin, evidently was thinking along the same lines. “If you insist on making a fool of yourself like this Thorin, then it concerns me greatly. I need further assurances that my daughter will be safe and welcome here as Fili’s wife.” He frowned, and looked at Bard and Balin. “You must see my problem here!”

For the first time in the meeting, Dáin’s sullen brother-in-law spoke up. “I have a solution, Dáin.”

Kili tensed, wondering if this was going to be another insult to his family or to the elf that he loved.

Bolli licked his lips. “I will stay here and watch your daughter, and your troops, Dáin. To safeguard our family’s investment in this place.”

Kili winced. The prospect of the loathsome dwarf spending any more time in Erebor was excruciating.

_Maybe I will go and seek exile in Mirkwood, and petition Thranduil to let Tauriel return. It might well be better than staying here..._

“And what do you want in return for this, Bolli?” Dáin asked.

The brown-bearded dwarf regarded them all round the table, as if sizing up his prey, and Kili sneered inwardly. _He’s obviously trying to think of the most insulting thing he can ask of my uncle!_

Bolli cleared his throat, a leering smile on his face. “I will do this, if I can stay here and marry the lady Sigrid of Laketown. I understand that you have named her as _your_ heir, Bard?”

But Bard’s face twisted into a glare. “You will never marry my daughter. The very idea is unthinkable to me.”

With a wide shrug of his hands, Dáin gestured angrily. “If you do not accept these terms – mine and my kinsman’s – then the deal is off!” He glared at Thorin and Bard in turn. “You will have to look for food and soldiers somewhere else!”

Kili sat back in his chair. He felt exhausted already and he hadn’t even played a role in the discussion. Still, he hoped they would ditch the deal – the whole meeting had been a cavalcade of bad calls as far as he was concerned, and starting from scratch was the best idea that he’d heard all morning. He glanced over at his brother, and saw that he had gone quite pale.

The dark-haired woman, however, seemed amused. “I thought, my lords, that you dwarven nobles regarded me and my people as _zver_? So what’s changed for you now? Is it the prospect of stealing – sorry, inheriting – the gold of the people of Laketown? Or is it just because you think Bard’s daughter is better looking than all your bearded ladies?”

Bolli shrugged smugly. “I’m just doing my best to fit in with Thorin’s new culture at court. If it’s good enough for the king and queen of Erebor, then why not the king and queen of Laketown?”

But the present king of Laketown was still glaring icily at Bolli. “She will never agree to it. And I will never ask her to.”

Thorin snorted. “Come on, Bard! We will have nothing to eat over winter, and no protection from the orcs, if we can make no deal.” He met the man’s grey eyes directly. “I know you love your daughter. But what do you think she would say to this? Do you think she would wish to see her friends and family go hungry, so she could marry a different stranger? She must know that as the king’s daughter she has certain _obligations_ to her people. ” Thorin sat back, and closed his eyes. “She will just have to accept it as Fili has done.”

“You leave me out of this.” Kili heard his brother warn.

But Thorin ignored him. “You know what I say is true, Bard.”

All eyes turned on the man, as he sat with his fists balled in rage on the table. The decision on the deal was down to him, and whether he would sacrifice his daughter for their collective benefit.

Finally Bard reached some kind of inner decision. “Very well,” he growled at the brown-bearded dwarf, “you may marry my daughter – but only if she agrees to the marriage herself. She is a free woman and can choose her own destiny. _As my heir_.”

Bolli smiled, pleased with himself, and Dáin nodded regally. “Then we have a deal.”

Kili looked up, expectantly. Did this mean the meeting was over? Were they free to go now?

Balin, who had been keeping minutes, met Kili’s gaze and shook his head in displeasure, and Kili raised his eyebrows at the old dwarf in agreement. Checking on the others, he saw his brother was sitting with his head in his hands, while Bard remained fixed in position with his wide, angry blue eyes glaring at Bolli. Even Gandalf appeared rather unsettled by the proceedings.

With a scrape of his chair, Thorin rose to his feet once more. “Thank you all for your attendance, my friends. We have reached an agreement that will keep our kingdoms safe and secure for the foreseeable future. I know these terms will fall harder on some of you, than on others...” His eyes dropped to his heir apparent once more, “and I thank you all for your understanding of the delicate situation we find ourselves in.” He looked around, wondering if there would be any last minute dissent at the decisions. “If nobody has anything to add, then you are all dismissed.”

Kili heard the sliding of chairs as everyone made to leave the room at once. All except his brother, who sat stiffly, eyes still downcast. Kili felt a knot of concern, and scrambled over to his brother’s side. “Fili? What’s wrong?”

But the blond dwarf just stared up at him miserably. “Let’s get out of here, Kili. I need to get away from this place.”

Kili nodded, and took his brother’s arm as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “Let’s go. I need to talk to you about something. I have an idea...”

As they turned to leave the room, and filed past their uncle, the two brothers said nothing. Thorin watched as the pair of them walked past, a look of sorrow on his face. “Fili,” he called softly, “I’m sorry about the way things turned out for you. I have meant no disrespect.”

Kili saw his brother nod, but the look on his face was cold. “Thank you, my lord.”

And as the two dwarves turned towards the door, Kili caught sight of the dark-haired woman standing by his uncle’s side and shuddered in himself. She was staring at Fili’s back with her wide, dark eyes, her mouth curled into a crooked smile that barely concealed her sneer of envy.

_We need to do something about her before it’s too late!_


	5. Witchcraft in the lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel finds a scroll, and a plan is hatched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets kinda smutty, so if it's not your thing- feel free to use the control-word (Control + F5) which is 'slaty blue'... and it will return you to the main story!
> 
> Also, I’m probably not going to get another update out until next weekend now. I’ve been off work this week so I’ve had time to do quite a bit of writing, but it’s back to the old 9-5 on Monday! :( I’m gonna write a bit in the evenings, and I know where I’m going with the plot, so don’t be alarmed and think I’ve abandoned it.

In the dim light of her room, the elf studied the old parchment carefully. She’d found it in the great library just this morning when she’d been looking for something to read, and had been astonished to find it on the higher, dustier shelves of one of the stacks.

The younger dwarf, Ori, had accompanied her around the tall aisles, and had promised to teach her the Khuzdul script, if only she’d help him learn some elementary elvish. He claimed there were books written with elvish writing hidden away in the older reaches of the dark library - and he was greatly interested in their contents. And curious herself, Tauriel had been hunting the books for him– until she’d stumbled upon the scroll.

She suspected the paper in her hands was far, far older than she was. And she could scarcely believe what it contained. She’d been reading it for some time, wondering about its implications...

There was a soft knock at her door, and she jumped up, startled. Immediately she dropped the scroll on her desk, worried that prying eyes might catch sight of the secrets contained therein; but then stopped, feeling quite foolish.

_There’s nobody here for miles around that can read this except me... and nobody would believe me even if I told them what was written._

She strode over from her desk to answer the door, although she suspected she already knew who it was.

Kili stood there in the dark passageway, a smile lighting up his fine features. “Good morning, my lady. May I come into your quarters?”

Tauriel felt her heart soar as she saw him standing there, alive and full of spirit despite the gloom. “Be my guest, Kili, how was your meeting?”

He trudged forwards into her room, his grin vanishing. “Not so good,” he said softly, “my uncle has declared his intention to marry the woman we found in the tower yesterday.” He raised his eyebrows ominously and shut the door with care. “I don’t trust her, Tauriel. I think she’s just using him to get her hands on the throne, and my uncle is too foolish to see it.”

Tauriel took a deep breath, and sat down on her bed. She wondered how much she should give away. How much of it actually _mattered_.

“Kili, I don’t know anything about this woman, but I know what she said is true. That she was a prisoner of the orcs.” The elf looked down at her hands, feeling suddenly guilty again. “I could hear it in her voice – that she was speaking the truth.” It was all she could say to him, for now. But what did it matter?

The dark-haired dwarf looked at her earnestly, and sat down beside her. “It’s not that I don’t believe her story... I just don’t trust her intentions! She is using my uncle for her own gain.”

Tauriel nodded her agreement. “You may well be right, Kili, but what can we do about it? Your uncle is the king: if he wants to marry her, then how can you stop him?” She shrugged ruefully. “I could try talking to her, but what can really she do? She’s a young woman. Are you worried she’s going to spend all the Erebor gold on new frocks for herself?”

But Kili’s face darkened. “I wish that was it,” he murmured. He sat up stiffly, facing her directly. “My uncle has arranged a trade deal with Dáin. He will provide us with food supplies, and armed dwarves, in exchange for us meeting... certain _demands_. My brother is to marry his daughter, and Sigrid has to marry his brother-in-law...”

Tauriel watched as his face filled with disgust, and she put her arm on his shoulder. “And what does your brother think to this?”

Kili shook his head, frowning. “He doesn’t like it. I know that much. I tried to talk to him, after the meeting, but he... wanted to be alone for a while. We said to meet later this afternoon.”

The elf thought for a moment, troubled on behalf of her friends. “Tell Fili that I’m sorry he has to do this. It must be horrible to marry someone you don’t even know,” she glanced over at Kili’s dark hair, running her fingers through some loose strands, “... or someone who you don’t love....”

He looked at her then, and started to say something, then closed his eyes and stopped. “I’m worried about him, Tauriel. If Thorin’s wife doesn’t give him a son, then Fili will remain his heir – and I don’t think that woman will be too accepting of it for long!” He met her gaze. “I think she sees anyone who can inherit Erebor as a threat to her schemes.” Kili turned to face her, and took her hand gently, his voice a whisper. “She might even see you as a threat, and... any children that we have, Tauriel.” His eyes dropped. “They could be heirs too one day, you know that, don’t you?”

She felt herself blush, and nodded slowly. “I understand, Kili.”

He turned to her hesitantly, and kissed her softly on the lips. “I won’t let anyone I love get hurt by her. Especially not you.”

The elf smiled, and touched her forehead against his. “If she threatens anyone in your family I’ll put an arrow through her throat myself.”

And she returned his kiss, deeper and firmer than he’d first dared. She could smell the sweet scent of chamomile in his hair as she held him close, wrapping her fingers around his black tresses and pulling him closer to her. Kili released her hand and held her tight across her shoulders. And then his fingers were encircling the back of her neck, tracing lightly on her skin and sending shivers all the way down her back.

She felt her breathing quicken, like some delicious ache was spreading across her chest and sensitising every part of her to his touch. He must have been able to sense it too, as her kissing became more hungry and fragmented, and his breaths came more shallow and strained, until finally she felt his lips pull away from hers and nuzzle into her neck.

A tremor ran through her when she felt his short breath on her ear. “I knew you’d come back to me, _amralime_ ,” and he kissed her neck slowly, as if savouring the taste of her skin and the way she stirred under his lips, “you make me feel alive, and I couldn’t go on without you... now you’ve shown me what it feels like to live.”

She felt tears sting her eyes, and she shut them close. “All the gods themselves couldn’t keep me away from you, Kili.” She gripped his waist, feeling his warm skin through the linen shirt he wore, “I love you – you’re the only one I could ever love.”

He straightened up in front of her, lifting his head to meet her as she sat taller than him on the bed. His beautiful, hazel eyes widened as he saw her tears, and he brushed one away from her cheek with a gentle hand. “Tauriel, I know it isn’t easy for you here. I know what you’ve given up – to be here with me.” She stared back at him with her green, shining eyes, and relaxed her grip around him, feeling safe and soothed by his calm, soft gaze. “And by Mahal, I love you. I want you by my side until the end of time – not even Mandos will keep me away from you.” Kili took a deep breath, his voice about to break. “I want you to be my wife, and let me love you forever.”

She felt the tears in her eyes flow then, she couldn’t have stopped them even if she’d tried. But these weren’t the broken, helpless tears she’d wept for days on end – for now she felt joy, and peace, and a tender, budding hope in her heart that this time, things were going to be alright. He was safe in her arms, and he loved her. And Tauriel didn’t want anything more than that.

“Kili, I would be honoured to be your wife, and nothing – not the Aratar and Fëanturi with them – will keep me away from you.” She sought for his lips, sealing their shared promise with a sensual kiss, and felt him reaching for her face, her neck, her shoulder... until his hand drew lower and found the curve of her breast, where it lingered admiringly as he explored how soft and yielding her flesh felt through her green elven dress. She felt her nipple harden under his palm, and she gave a soft sigh as his fingers were instantly drawn towards it, fascinated by the firm feel of her body through the fabric.

A glowing, light-headed sensation washed over her, with a desire to feel his bare skin for herself, and she lifted his shirt out from his breeches, relishing his sudden gasp as the warm skin around his waist trembled at the touch of her cooler hands. Those hands roamed greedily over his muscular torso, feeling the coarse, dwarven hair that coated his chest, and teasing his own nipples lightly with the tips of her fingers.

He broke his mouth away from hers, his breathing shallow and rapid, and with a sultry stare at her he lifted his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. He kissed her hard, and she could feel the desire in her rising as his earthy, musky scent enveloped her.

Tauriel lifted one of his hands to the lace ties on the side of her dress. “Take it off, Kili; I need to feel you properly.” And she heard him suck in his breath as he reached to untie her clothing with both of his hands. The elven ties were unfamiliar, but he focused himself on unhooking the knots one by one, until she felt her dress loosen around her stomach and knew it was ready to remove. She unhitched her arms from it carefully, and allowed him to peel it off down to her navel.

“Tauriel,” he stared for a second at her bare breasts, and she saw his face redden. He gazed at her intensely, “are you ready for this?” He kissed her neck, and she lifted her chin up so he could trace her throat with his lips, making the skin all over her body tighten in anticipation, and he whispered closely in her ear once more. “I can wait if you want me to?”

She looked deep into his deep, hazel eyes, and was filled with love for him – for this dwarf she’d known for mere days. And yet she felt like she’d been waiting an age for him to find her. For them to find a chance to be together, despite all those who had tried to part them – and now they were both here she didn’t want to wait any longer.

“No, Kili, no more waiting,” she whispered softly, “I want you now.”

She saw him stare at her again for a second, and heard him swallow thickly, and wondered whether he was nervous – or whether he’d done this already, a thousand times, with a thousand pretty girls before her. She had no idea what his people’s customs were like in such matters, especially for a handsome, young, dwarf prince.

“Kili, is this the first time... for you?” She hoped she didn’t sound too anxious, or needy. But he took her hand, and gently pushed her down onto her back, angling himself over her so he could touch her smooth skin.

She heard him sigh softly in her ear. “There’s been nobody else, Tauriel. I’ve never felt like this about anyone... until you.” And he leaned fully into her, kissing her deep on her throat and shoulder while his fingers played across her flat stomach, finding her navel, and tracing its edge lightly.

Immediately, her stomach tensed up under his fingers, sending a pleasant ripple deep through her belly that seemed to both tighten and relax her muscles, and she reached for his warm skin again. She found the waistband of his clothing, and worked her fingers around, searching for a method of removal, but was drawn to the front of his breeches. Kili froze as she stroked him gently, his breath coming raggedly, as if focused entirely on her caresses, until with a sudden murmur he rose on his knees and unbuckled his belt.

Tauriel watched him silently as he let the trousers drop to the bed. She felt a thrill run through her as she stared at his small, firm, muscular body, and followed the soft line of black hair from his waist to his hardened, pink penis. His face was a matching, flushed colour, and she smiled up at him, delighting in his masculine beauty. “Come into me, Kili,” she whispered, “I want you now.”

With a heavy sigh, he leant over her and planted his mouth on the top of her breast, kissing her skin until his tongue found her nipple, then sucking her slowly and gently, sending a current of pleasure spreading out through her belly, opening her up from the inside out with a delicious wetness.

The elf felt her dwarf lover was losing control. She heard his breathing rise and fall faster and harder now. She was losing control too, and it felt so good. She tore her dress aside, to let his naked body lie hip to hip against hers. “Come into me, Kili,” she moaned, “I want to feel you now.”

She felt him hesitate slightly, and then her breath exploded as she felt his hand running up her thigh, parting her legs, parting her all the way until he found what he was looking for. He stroked and rubbed her delicately, as if worshiping the body of some precious, fragile goddess, and it was driving her crazy. “Come into me, Kili,” she begged, “I need you!”

She wondered if he was going to go on teasing her like this, whether he wanted to watch her lose herself and come undone in the wave she could feel was building within her – he was winding her up so tightly that something was going to burst inside her and she couldn’t stop it now...

But he must have been able to see she was on the edge. Either that, or he was himself. She heard him groan, and felt him steady himself on top of her, shifting his balance – and then his penis was rubbing at her, and she could feel herself opening up to him, tilting her hips back to ease his way as he slid inside her, finally giving himself to her, and she cried out in pleasure as she felt him rock into her.

The elf opened her eyes to watch his face, and saw her dwarven lover’s eyes were shut tight, his face straining as beads of sweat pooled on his brow. She could feel he was as close as she was, and she heard him moan deliciously and open his eye to look at her, when a burning shudder ran through her entire body, and she threw her head back as the all-consuming surge took her away from herself. And she could see colours in front of her: purples, and greens, and reds, and then a blackness as she realised her eyes were screwed up and her mouth was calling his name.

And when she opened her eyes again she saw Kili’s face crumple with joy as he lost control of himself and was hit by his own convulsion. She felt him spasm inside her body and cry out in blissful release, sending her back on another sweet wave of abandon.

And after they were both finished, he lay still for a moment on top of her, before pulling away gently and snuggling on his back beside her. She felt a lazy smile play at her lips, and felt him kiss her, and drape a heavy arm around her, and then she closed her eyes beside him to let sleep overcome her for a while.

 

***   ***   ***

 

It was just past mid-afternoon now, but the sky was darkening already with the threat of rain. Over in the west, a slaty blue front of cloud could be seen swallowing up the grey sky, with little gusts of wind already blowing across the lake from the oncoming storm.

Sitting alone on the pebbly beach under the shadow of the Lonely Mountain, Fili pulled his cloak closer around himself, feeling cold and tired. He’d been sitting there for some time, staring as the colours in the lakewater shifted from silvery blue to dark grey and the temperature slowly dropped. He wondered idly whether he should get up and move around, but it suited his mood to sit still on the chilly beach while he waited for his brother to arrive.

He’d known all his life that at some point he would be expected to marry a noble’s daughter to further some political agenda, but he’d never expected to be openly traded to the highest bidder by his own uncle. It had been an excruciatingly humiliating experience – and the last thing he’d been expecting – but at least he’d thought he was being sold to Sigrid. There was a chance he could have lived quite happily with that. As long as she was happy, of course. She’d caught his eye at dinner yesterday – she was looking so carefree and natural – not at all like Rose, or any of the other courtly dwarven ladies he’d been introduced to.

And he had some vague, small feeling – that had felt a lot like a hope – that she might be pleased by the prospective match as well. Pleased enough to agree to it, anyway, and the thought had cheered him rather unexpectedly.

_Because you like her_ , some inner voice told him. _You like her, and you want her to like you._

But then they’d snatched the chance away, and the hope had turned to horror as he heard who they were going to marry her to instead. Not that he was pleased to be engaged to a complete stranger – but Sigrid was definitely getting the worse part of the deal.

He hoped fervently that she would refuse... but he knew she wouldn’t. For the same reason that he wouldn’t refuse to marry Dáin’s daughter.

He picked up a small pebble with a sigh, and flung it as far out into the lake as he could, watching the ripples as they collided with the waves and were broken up by the stronger swell.

“Fili! Sorry I’m late.” He heard his brother calling out to him in Khuzdul from the track that led back to Erebor, and turned and waved him over, not bothering to stand. Kili bounded over and sat down beside him.

Fili could see right away that his brother was excited by something – he was almost fizzing over with exuberance – and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Kili’s terrible efforts to rein himself in.“It’s okay, Ki, you don’t have to pretend to be miserable for my benefit.” He tilted his head slightly, assessing the newfound glint in his brother’s eye. “You’ve been talking to Tauriel, haven’t you?”

He watched as the inevitable smile spread across Kili’s youthful face. “There wasn’t all that much _talking_ actually...”, and the dwarf’s glance dropped down to the pebbles in the foreground. But the grin intensified, and he turned to Fili with wide eyes and a rosy glow on his cheeks. “She said she’ll be my wife, Fi. She wants to marry me!”

And then instantly his smile dropped, replaced by an anguished frown. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be – ”

“Kili!” The blond brother clapped his arm around the younger one’s shoulder. “I’m... really glad for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you so happy!” He smiled into his brother’s eyes, and patted his back. “I like her,” he said quietly, “she’s brave and loyal – and beautiful – ”

Kili smiled back appreciatively. “She’s all of those things, Fi. And I love her.”

Fili nodded. “I know you do.” He removed his hand from his brother’s back, and looked away, towards the lake. “But you know what the rest of them will say, Kili. They won’t be happy.” He gripped his brother’s arm, feeling suddenly protective. “Just promise me you won’t listen to them?”

Kili shook his head. “I don’t care what they think. I’m not going to choose their miserable traditions over her!”

Fili nodded. “Good.” He released his brother’s arm and rolled his eyes. “At least that makes one of us.” He felt his brother turn and regard him in silence, but he kept his eyes on the broken lake surface.

“Fi... I’ve been thinking. I don’t want you to do this! I know you think you have to, but you don’t!”

Fili shook his head sadly. “Kili, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“But I’ve been thinking, Fi! I have an idea!”

The blond dwarf eyed his brother sceptically. “And what idea would this be?”

Kili drew a deep breath and stared up at the sky. “Why don’t I go and talk to King Thranduil myself? To see if I can change his mind?” His voice softened. “Tauriel knows him very well – and I know why he won’t send us any troops. But our uncle – ” Kili rolled his eyes, “ – won’t even try to see it from the elves’ point of view!”

Fili thought for a moment. “You shouldn’t go, Kili. You shouldn’t go – because he’ll clamp you in irons, throw you back in the dungeon, and use you as a bargaining chip to get more of our gold!” He turned to face his younger brother. “I know why you want to do this. I know you think you can help, but just... stop. Please. I’m fine with this! I’m... the future king. It’s what I have to do.”

Kili screwed his face up. “Oh, you’re fine with this, are you? You’re fine with Sigrid being forced to marry that ugly beast, and fine with losing your chance of finding love – all so you can sit on that throne and be angry and bitter for the rest of your life like the rest of them?”

Fili glared over at his brother. _How could he say that? He’s so irresponsible!_

But Kili put his hand on his brother’s arm, seeing he’d got his reaction. “I know you’re not that kind of dwarf, Fili. Don’t give me the _duty and honour_ lecture!” He looked away at the water. “I know you like her. So do something about it! You _are_ the future king of Erebor – don’t you think that will mean _something_ to King Thranduil?”

Fili smiled faintly. “And go over our uncle’s head, you mean?” He laughed. “That witch would have me strung up and thrown in the jail myself.”

Kili smiled grimly. “That’s probably true. I don’t know what he’s thinking. Did he have some kind of fight with Bilbo? Is he doing all this just to make the hobbit jealous? Or can he really not see that Rose is playing with him?”

The blond dwarf scowled. “Maybe we should talk to Bilbo, and find out. Maybe Thorin will listen to him?”

Kili nodded. “It couldn’t hurt, I suppose. Tauriel has already gone to find Rose.” He shrugged his hands. “She thinks that being nice to the woman and trying to get to know her is the best strategy.” He scoffed at the absurdity. “I told her she’s wasting her time, but she seems to feel bad for the woman. She said we were being unfair and that we should give her a chance!”

Fili stared back, puzzled. “I thought that’s what we had been doing?”

Kili shook his head. “That woman has had more of a chance than my elf has. We need to talk to Thorin. We need to talk to Bilbo, and then go and talk to him – together. Sometime when _she’s_ not around!”

Fili nodded, thinking. “You could ask Tauriel to take her new friend out hunting, or riding, or... whatever it is women like to do – and then we can talk to uncle.”

His brother turned back to him. “So we have a plan for _her_. Now, what’s our plan for _you_ and _Sigrid_?”

Fili rolled his eyes. He wished his brother would drop it, he really did.

_But he’s right! How can I let this happen to her?_

He looked at the lake, and saw how grey and miserable it looked. How deep and cold, and barren. And he sighed. Either way, whatever he did, he was going to be letting someone down.

“When do you want to speak to Thranduil then, Kili? Before or after we speak to Bilbo? ”

Fili picked up a sharp rock from the beach, and spun it round in his fingers. “If we speak to the hobbit first, we might have more of an idea of what’s gone wrong with Thorin... and what to say to the elven king.”

His brother looked up at him, blinking. “You’re coming too? To see the elves?”

But Fili just looked at him and shook his head. “I’m not letting you go alone – you’ll be just as bad as Thorin – running your mouth off when you don’t get your way...” He smiled at his brother warmly. “Plus I don’t think you can be trusted around those pretty _elves_.”

He turned back to the lake, and saw the ominous blue cloud was fast approaching. The rain would hit them soon, and it was already cold. Soon the darkness would be on them too. Fili shivered.

“Let’s get back to Erebor and find Bilbo. We can set off for Mirkwood in the morning .”

And so the two brothers stood up and brushed themselves down, preparing to head home for the night.

Neither of them had noticed the small, black eyes that watched them from under a pair of rowan trees on the lake strand...


	6. To Leave thee in a Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is pursuaded to talk to Thorin, while Fili checks on Sigrid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has ended up being a bit longer than I would have liked, but I couldn't really edit it down any more. It does have some more smutty bits too - although I guess if you're still reading this far, then you don't mind that! :)
> 
> Also, I'm still working away from home (and I will be for the next month now) so my weekday schedule is a bit unpredictable, but I'll be aiming to get chapter seven out next weekend again.

The hobbit sat in the darkening room, listening to the rain and watching through his window as the faint trace of blue on the horizon was slowly drowned by the gathering gloom. It was time to bar the window with the shutters, and light some candles, and make his little upstairs quarters cosy and warm for the long night ahead – yet he was reluctant to begin. Some vague sense of unease gripped him as he looked into the blanketing nightfall. He wanted to cling onto the final tatters of the daytime for as long as he could.

_It’s normal to have unsettling feelings when you’re sitting alone in the dark. I’m sure it’s nothing – and if it’s not nothing, it’s just my imagination. And if it is nothing, it’s nothing that shutting the windows and running a nice cup of hot tea won’t cure._

He decided to draw a line under the day, and just shutter up the window.

_I’m just worn out from caring about that impossible dwarf!_

On the table by his bed, he found an old lamp and some matches, and quickly sparked one to light the candle. The little flame jumped into life in a fizz of sulphur and the easy ritual gave him some small sense of comfort. So he stepped gingerly towards the cold, sucking void on the far wall, where the rain and the wind drove unbidden into his chambers.

Taking the sturdy wooden shutters in his hand, he took one last look outside to check all was well. The darkness was almost complete now, and the air smelled damp and salty, as if the coming storm was going to linger. And as he peered out one last time on the dying traces of that winter’s day, he was sure he could see small lights in the distance, flickering in the wind.

They were faint, and few, and well dispersed over on the far side of the lake – out towards the Ravenhill tower. Like silent eyes growing out of the blackened hillside, trained on the living.

But what could they be? There wasn’t anyone out there. All the Laketown refugees were still encamped around Dale and the Erebor gates. Nobody wanted to dwell so far out in the scrubby woods far away from other people...

_Maybe it’s the orcs after all. Maybe they never left. Maybe they’re all around us now, just waiting for us to let our guard down..._

Someone knocked on the door.

Bilbo jumped in fright, nearly hitting his head off the shutters, and cursed under his breath. Who could it be at this hour? It wasn’t time for dinner summons, and he hadn’t been expecting anyone.

The knocking came again, more insistent this time.

“I’m coming! Hold your horses.”

With a roll of his eyes, he padded over to the doorway on his soft, furry feet, and swung open the door. He looked up in surprise to meet the eyes of Thorin’s two young nephews, staring seriously back at him as he stood blinking in the doorway.

“Fili! Kili! Come in. This is an unexpected pleasure, I can tell you. I was just setting up for nightfall.”

The two dwarf princes stepped in, seemingly unconcerned by the inhospitable gloom of the hobbit’s living quarters.

Fili cocked his head to the side. “Do you mind us coming by like this, Bilbo? We don’t mean to intrude.”

“We just wanted to talk to you for a minute... about Thorin,” added Kili.

Bilbo shook his head, sadly. “It’s no trouble – I wasn’t doing anything important.” He beckoned for them to sit on his bed, while he took a seat at the chair by his writing desk. “What is it about Thorin? He’s alright, isn’t he? I heard about his... _announcement_... at the meeting this morning.”

Fili raised an eyebrow at the hobbit. “Did he come by to tell you about it?”

But the hobbit stared moodily at the floor. “No. I heard from Balin over lunch.” He stared up miserably. “It was all everyone was talking about. That and... _your_ betrothal, Fili.” His voice was quiet and sympathetic. “I know I’m supposed to congratulate you, but I hardly think it’s appropriate under the circumstances.”

Fili and Kili exchanged a glance, and the blond dwarf held up a hand. “It’s okay, Bilbo, I know everyone will be worried about the news... I know _I am_.”

Kili gave his brother a dark smile, then turned to the hobbit. “We wanted to talk to you about Thorin, Bilbo. We’re worried about him. We don’t trust that woman!”

Fili nodded. “We think she’s just manipulating and using him. And now she’s got her hands on the Erebor throne.”

Bilbo smiled sardonically. “It’s not like Thorin to miss a thief after his gold?” He shook his head. “I think you’re both probably right, my friends, but what do you think you can do about it?”

Kili shrugged. “It’s not so much about what we can do, Bilbo. It’s about what you can do – or tell us.” The hobbit felt the dwarf’s hazel eyes sweep over him in concern. “What happened between you and Thorin? I thought you were getting on well? You were always together – he seemed happy when you were around! And then... he’s betrothing himself to that woman.”

Fili scowled at his brother. “I’m sorry, we’re not trying to pry. We just want to know what was going on in Thorin’s mind when he met Rose. Had you two fallen out? Was he mad about something?” Fili fixed Bilbo with a serious look. “Or do you think all of this goes back to before I found her in the tower?”

The hobbit thought for a minute. Where had it started? Before they reached Laketown? Before they’d loosed Smaug on the town? Bilbo wasn’t sure, but somewhere along the way Thorin had changed, or something had changed him. As they’d got closer to the Lonely Mountain, he’d become curt and more aloof, spending less time around the campfire with his friends or his hobbit and more time muttering at everyone in anger or brooding alone in silence.

Bilbo considered. “Look, you both well know how moody your uncle is – so it’s hard to put a time on it – but I think after we left Laketown on the boat – that’s when I noticed there was something different about him. Something... more _remote_.”

He sighed. “The closer we’ve come to this place – the closer he’s gotten to the throne under the mountain – the worse he’s got. But... he’s not trying to upset people. He’s been preparing his whole life for this quest – for these last few days – and I think the pressure is just... catching up with him. He’s lost the plot. He’ll come around, eventually. I just hope he still has some friends left by the time he realises what a fool he’s been!”

Fili grimaced. “Or before he’s given our kingdom away to _her_.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I don’t like her either. I don’t trust her story. You remember when we found her in the tower? My Sting was glowing blue when you both went in! I was in ever such a worry. But then... there was nothing. It just stopped glowing. Right before you came out with her.”

As he spoke, the young dwarves leaned in closer, curious. Fili frowned. “So what are you saying, Bilbo? That there were orcs, and then there weren’t? The woman already told us that.”

Beside him, his dark-haired brother nodded. “Tauriel says her story is true. I don’t know _how_ she knows it– but I think Rose was taken prisoner by orcs. It’s just the part about her father stumbling upon an orc horde that sounds like fantasy!”

Bilbo stared up at the young dwarf sharply. “There _are_ strange lights out there, Kili. I saw them at the window before you came in.” A flash of alarm crept across the hobbit’s face. “She might be right – the whole countryside around here could be crawling with them...”

The two brothers exchanged a glance on the bed, and rose to their feet immediately.

“Show us these lights.” Fili commanded.

Bilbo stepped up from the wobbly chair by his desk, and made his way across the cold stone floor towards the window. He’d never managed to actually lock it – he realised that now – and the wooden shutter hung loosely over the front, unlatched and swaying gently in the wind.

“Just out there across the lake – take a look,” he offered, pointing the two dwarves towards the window.

The two of them opened the shutters wide and stared out into the darkness for a few moments, before turning back into the room.

“I don’t see anything,” Fili said carefully. “Are you sure it was lights you saw? Not stars? The far lakeshore is a long way off.”

Bilbo paced over to the window and took a look for himself. He saw nothing but blackness, and a thick, choking cloud full of hissing, heavy rain.

“It’s the cloud cover - the sky has come down and hidden the lakeshore from view. I swear I could see them! There were about six or seven of them – little yellow lights, all along the lakeshore by Ravenhill.”

“We believe you, Mr Baggins.” said Kili thoughtfully. “There’s been no stars visible tonight with that weather. And I wouldn’t be surprised if there were still orcs hanging around, waiting to try and pick off any stragglers who stray out too far from town after dark...” He turned to his brother. “You’re still with me for tomorrow, aren’t you?”

Fili gave Kili a small nod, and regarded the hobbit curiously. “Bilbo, would you mind us troubling you for one more favour before we go?”

“Eh, a favour, you say? What kind of favour?” the hobbit stammered. It had better not be anything to do with orcs. Or venturing outside in the foul weather to report back on any of the other horrors that were undoubtedly lurking out there.

Kili looked apologetic. “We wondered if you would speak to Thorin, and tell him about our concerns?” Seeing the look of panic spreading across the hobbit’s face, he quickly carried on. “We’ll come with you – or I will, anyway.” He glanced at Fili sideways, who gave him a slight shake of the head. “We just think that someone needs to try talking some sense into Thorin. And since we’re the people who care about him the most – it’s down to us to do it.”

The hobbit stared at the two dwarves apprehensively. He knew they both loved their uncle – and Thorin undoubtedly loved them too – but he wouldn’t take too kindly to some misguided intervention. If anything, it would give the scheming woman more opportunity to question their loyalty and drive a wedge between the king and his current heirs.

“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea, Kili – he’ll be _very_ angry! The woman will use it against you!”

Kili scowled. “I’m not afraid of her, and I’m not afraid of my uncle’s temper either! I’m sure he will be angry – he certainly won’t be pleased to hear what we all think about his new bride-to-be, but we need to try. And maybe in a few days time when he’s calmed down he’ll realise that we were right?”

The hobbit shut his eyes. Kili was right – they couldn’t just allow Thorin to do as he pleased. The people who cared about him had a duty to stand up to his erratic behaviour. It just wasn’t going to be an overly pleasant experience...

He gave a deep, weary sigh. “Alright, I’ll come with you.” He saw Kili smile at him appreciatively.

“Thanks, Bilbo. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go in alone.” The dark-haired dwarf grinned.

“Alone? So _you’re_ not joining us, Fili?” The hobbit felt confused, like he’d been vaguely misled.

But Kili’s blond brother just shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to go and speak to someone else.” He cast his eyes down to the small candle burning brightly on the desk. “I need to see if she’s alright.”

Enlightenment dawning on the hobbit, he nodded sympathetically. “Right. I see. Well good luck with that.” He looked to Kili, raising his eyebrows. “When did you want to speak to Thorin?”

“I thought maybe... now?”

“Oh. Right.” The hobbit’s eyebrows rose even higher, as his heart sank lower than ever. Why was he always getting talked into these ridiculous escapades? It was going to be the death of him, one of these days – it really was. His patience with being used as Thorin’s emotional punch-bag was wearing thin – and he was feeling worn out from the worry of it all.

Plus, how could their plan ever work? Thorin would surely think the hobbit’s motivation was lowly jealousy, rather than some noble concern for his former lover’s welfare. And that was surely more humiliating than anything else...

 

***   ***   ***

 

The temperature inside Erebor was falling. Through every chink in the mountainside halls, chill gusts were winding their way inside, so that in the corridors some of the candles had been blown out, plunging small sections of the passageways into near darkness.

As Fili marched through the dimming, flickering tunnels however, he paid the wind no mind. He was preoccupied with the day’s events, and resolute that nothing was going to stop him from fulfilling the promise he was going to make her – that she would never marry that ugly, mean-spirited kinsman of Dáin’s, and that he had a plan to make it so.

He finally reached the Erebor gate, and gave a signal to the young man on sentry duty, guarding the mechanism that opened the main door to the underground city. There was a low, grinding howl as the gears pulled together, and the gate began to rise, exposing his face to the cold and heavy rain gusting in on the breeze.

_Where does she live? She said it was not far from the gate._

He strode down the hill towards what had once been the main street of Dale, his blond braids flailing around his face in the storm, and tried to match the house to the description he’d been given by the serving maids. Finally spying what he thought was the right building – a thin, grey sandstone townhouse whose upper floors lay exposed to the rain and ruin – he ventured upto the front door.

Raising his fist to knock, he was struck for a second wondering what he was actually going to say. What if she had flat-out refused the match already, and cared nothing for his plan? Would she think badly of him for trying to save her? For thinking that she needed saving? Maybe she would just laugh in his face, and call him a coward for agreeing so easily to his own arranged marriage. And maybe he would even deserve it...

He swallowed thickly, and knocked on the door. This wasn’t about his feelings or worries, it was to try and alleviate hers. He stood up straighter as he heard a light footfall approaching the door, and held his breathe as the door swung open in his face.

Sigrid was standing there in front of him, in a loose, white dress and with bare feet. He wondered suddenly if she’d been asleep, and he’d woken her. Her foggy blue-grey eyes widened as she recognised him in the doorway, but she didn’t smile.

“Fili? What are you doing here? Come in, it’s freezing out there in the rain.”

He stepped into her adopted house, into a large but bare front room, and noticed at once the temperature was more agreeable. A small fire was burning in the hearth, giving off the fresh aroma of burnt applewood, mixed with the warm scent of cinnamon that came from further within her home.

She looked at him quizzically. “I was just cooking some stew. Do you want some?”

He shook his head. “I’ve already eaten, Sigrid, but thank you. I actually came here to talk to you. About the meeting...”

She shook her head bitterly. “Oh yes, the meeting! The meeting that I was uninvited to, which betrothed me to someone who I despise, without my father’s free consent, on pain of my people – my friends and family – going hungry over winter!” She sat down on a chair near the fireplace, gripping her hands together tightly, her face pale and worried. “My father told me all about it.”

Fili walked slowly towards her chair, ready to back off if she stared at him in hate like he was half expecting. If she really hadn’t hated them all by last night – then by now she surely must hate his people with a burning passion.

“I’m sorry, Sigrid. You shouldn’t be made to agree to this under pressure, it’s not fair.”

She looked over at him, but instead of hate in her eyes he saw cold curiosity. “And what about you, Fili? Is it fair for you? Or do you dwarves just not care who you marry? Do you have feelings for others of your kind, or is it always just about how much you stand to gain by trading one in for another?”

Stung, he retreated away closer to the entrance, where the chill drafts came blowing in from under the door. “I don’t know, Sigrid,” he whispered, “I care, but I’m not free to change any of it. I didn’t make this decision. And there’s nothing for me to gain in _any_ of this.” He looked at her sadly. “I don’t _want_ any of this.”

Sigrid stared off into the fire. “You know, I heard that we were to be betrothed. Before they changed it all. I was supposed to be your wife. Would I have made a good _trade_ for you, do you think?” She looked at him sharply, and he could see the reflection of the fire in her eyes.

“If you had freely consented to being my wife, Sigrid, I would have considered it an excellent match – one that I would have been happy to make, as long as you were.”

“I would have consented to it, Fili,” he heard her whisper softly into the flames. “How would you have felt about that?”

He looked at her, feeling another wave of exhaustion sweeping over him. “Does it matter now?”

But she stared back at him evenly. “It matters to me.”

Fili sighed. Why was she being like this with him? He was on her side. He wasn’t trying to use her to take a throne, or seal a deal like she was a down-payment on a gold mine. Why did she seem so angry with him?

“I would have felt good, Sigrid. I was _happy_ to think you would be my wife. Is that the answer you wanted? Did I say the right thing?” He felt suddenly emotional. “I wanted us to both be happy! I would never have married you without your consent, I’d never touch you without your consent, I wouldn’t – ”

He saw her leap up from her chair and march straight over to him, and his first instinct was to duck the inevitable slap coming his way. But instead, he felt her arms grab him roughly at his sides, and her warm, wet mouth was suddenly planted on his lips, kissing him hard and silencing his thoughts immediately as he kissed her back with a hunger he hadn’t realised he felt.

She finally released him, and stood leaning her chin on the top of his head and standing close against him. Fili could smell the cinnamon coming from her dress, stronger than before, and feel her heady, warm aura all around him, electrifying his skin. He put his arms around her, holding her tightly, not wanting to let her away from his side.

“I wanted you to kiss me last night, Fili.” She looked down at him with her big, sad eyes, and he felt a pain in his heart to see her look so unhappy. “Why didn’t you?” She moved her mouth towards his ear, and whispered closely. “Why didn’t you tell them that you’d only marry me?”

He took her head in his hands, desperate that she should understand. “Oh Sigrid, you know why I couldn’t do that!” He could see the pain in her eyes, and he wanted to take it all away. “I wish I could have told them... I want you to be my wife, I want you – ”

“Hush, Fili.” He felt her put a finger to his lips, and he realised his heart was racing, his thoughts spinning. “It isn’t your fault, I know that.” She pulled him closer, tugging at the back of the blue tunic he wore, not seeming to care about his damp clothes. “I’m not angry with you.”

“Sigrid,” he whispered, “I’m riding to Mirkwood tomorrow with my brother.” He felt her withdraw her warmth from him suddenly and stare at him. “We will speak to King Thranduil, and try and come to terms with him ourselves. If we can get him to change his mind, my uncle won’t need this deal with Dáin, and both of us will be free...”

But she didn’t seem happy. “You’re going into Mirkwood? The two of you? Alone?” She looked at him in alarm. “But Fili, is it safe? The elven king is not your friend – and especially not your brother’s friend!” She hugged him tight again and sighed. “I don’t want any harm to come to you.”

He hugged her back, and kissed her on her cheek. “I _can’t_ let any harm come to you, Sigrid. That’s why I have to go. But I’ll not be alone – Kili will be with me. And we can handle ourselves in the woods.”

She sighed sadly. “My father will come with you, if you ask him, I know he will. Take him along – the elven king won’t be able to do you any mischief with him there too!”

Fili considered. “If your father wishes to join us, he is more than welcome. Where is he now?”

Sigrid smiled. “He’s not here. He’s taken Tilda and Bain away to my cousin’s house for the night.” She looked at him sheepishly. “He wanted to give me some time alone to... decide on the match with _that dwarf_.”

Fili looked at her seriously. “We need to leave first thing in the morning, before anyone notices we’ve gone. I should go and find him –”

“He’ll be back here first thing in the morning. You can stay here and wait.” Sigrid kissed his neck, and Fili felt the hairs standing up all over his body.

He opened his mouth and was about to protest, but she silenced him with a soft kiss to his lips, and ran her hands lazily down the length of his back, following the curve of his spine gently. “I can hang up these wet clothes by the fire, and get you something to drink,” she murmured, “and you can spend the night here. With me.”

She looked him deep in his eyes, and he knew what she wanted. He wanted to protest – and tell her that they shouldn’t, that it was wrong, but he couldn’t. He wanted it too. He felt himself blush a deep red, his cheeks burning.

“We shouldn’t,” he tried, “it’s not – ”

“Not what?” she asked, “not right?” She kissed him slowly and deeply again, and Fili felt his legs about to buckle underneath him. “Is that what you think?” She traced a line down his chest with her finger, and began unhooking the latches on his tunic, one by one. “I’ll stop if you can make me believe that you really think that’s true.” She tore at the latches, and pulled his damp tunic open, exposing his curly blond chest hair.

With a smile on her face, she ran her warm hands over the cool skin of his chest, noting every muscle with a firm caress, and Fili closed his eyes and gasped at the sudden weakness he felt within himself. She took his hands gently within hers, and whispered in his ear again. “Come over to the fire, Fili. Let me warm you up.”

And he allowed her to lead him by the hand to the small hearth in the far corner, where the applewood fire burned bright and warm, bathing them both in a rosy glow. She peeled his wet tunic off, exposing more of his skin to her view, and she hung it over the back of her chair, near the flames. He could feel her eyes all over his body, scanning him hungrily, and he felt a ripple of excitement as he wondered what she had in mind for him.

“And your trousers too, Fili.” She smiled innocently. “I think, actually, you should just take everything off. And I can give you a blanket to dry off your hair.” She saw his look of surprise, and nodded towards the door. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

The dwarf stood uncertainly by the fire, warming his hands, wondering what to do. He should probably leave now – leave and find Bard, and make some preparations for the morning, and tell Sigrid he had to leave because he belonged to some other now. The sensible part of him wanted very insistently for him to leave right away, but Fili was tired and angry with the sensible part of himself. It was the sensible part that had gotten him into this mess to begin with – there was no way Kili would submit to his elders’ authority the way he had, that was for sure. And look how happy he was, with his elven lover.

Fili was tired of listening to his joyless, sensible side. He would rather feel Sigrid’s lips on his again, and hold her close to his beating heart.

He heard the door behind him open again, and felt the slight draft as the air in the room shifted about. His skin was tingling, waiting for her to touch him, but instead she draped a woollen blanket over his shoulders.

“I thought you were going to strip off for me, Fili?” He felt her hand sliding up the exposed half of his back. “How can I warm you if you’re wearing wet clothes?”

She sat down in front of the fire, and pulled at his hips, indicating he should join her, and Fili crouched down slowly, waiting for her instruction.

“Take them off,” she whispered, “and stay here tonight with me.”

As Fili reached for his belt, she smiled and stretched out on her side by the fire, watching him intently as he stood to remove his clothes, hanging them gently on the chair beside his tunic, until he was standing in front of her, naked except for the blanket around his shoulders.

She motioned him to sit in front of her, and he did so. He felt her sit up behind him and brush her body against his back as she took his blanket and started to gently blot at his wet blond braids.

“You know, Fili, you’re very handsome. You must have had loads of attention from all your dwarf ladies, before you came here. Why were you not already betrothed to someone else?”

He thought for a moment. “I think all _those_ ladies were mostly interested in the throne I’m supposed to inherit – not me... The only ladies _I_ liked always fancied my brother.”

Sigrid shuffled her body around his, so her knees hugged close to his sides, and he could feel her breasts pressing on his back through the flimsy dress she wore. Her hands encircled his waist, and ran over his chest, while she planted light kisses on the back of his neck, through his long hair. The sensation was utterly arousing, as she no doubt intended it to be, and Fili felt himself forgetting to breath, as her hands lowered to lightly brush the thickening hair around his navel.

“And what do you think I want, Fili? “ Sigrid murmured in his ear. “Do you know what it is?”

He tensed as her hands found his penis, already stiff, and gripped him firmly, stroking and massaging him harder and higher. He groaned, and felt her kiss his neck again, kissing all the way up his throat towards his ear, as he tilted his head back towards her, leaning more of his weight into her body.

She ran her tongue over his earlobe, and whispered huskily to him. “I want you. I want you now, Fili. Tonight. I want you to let go, and give yourself to me.”

And part of his sensible self must have still been functioning, because he could hear himself trying to protest. “But Sigrid – I can’t. You’re not mine, it’s not – ”

But she pressed her finger firmly to his lips, and squeezed his nipple until he shivered in pain. “I’m a free woman, Fili. I can give myself to whoever I want. I don’t belong to that miserable dwarf... not _yet_.” She lowered her leg furthest from the fire, and placed his hands under her knee, so he could feel more of her body. “I want you tonight – I want _you_ to take me now, before he does – so I won’t... have _his_ child.”

Fili felt something wet on his shoulder, and he broke free of her grip and spun round. He saw she had tears in her eyes, and she made no attempt to hide them. He held his arms out, and she threw herself into them at once.

He whispered to her softly. “Sigrid, don’t worry about him... I will _never_ let him hurt you – you will never be his wife. I swear to you – I will kill him myself before it comes to that!”

She met his eyes, and he saw she trusted him. And there was something else there in her gaze, as she stared back at him with her watery blue-grey eyes in the firelight. A brightness he hadn’t seen before.

She took his face in her hands, and kissed his mouth softly. “Fili, why do you care so much? I would never ask you to do such a thing for me – you’d lose everything.”

He drank her all in: her closeness, her warmth, her vulnerability, her strength, her beauty, and he realised he never wanted to part with her. He could never let anyone hurt her, no matter what the consequences were for himself. He would do anything to keep her safe, and keep those blue-grey eyes from shedding any more tears.

“Sigrid, I love you.”

He blinked at her, and saw her eyes widen as she registered what he’d said. And then her face crumpled in tears. “I love you too, Fili! I want to be your wife, because I choose you.”

He held her tightly. “I swear to you it will be so, Sigrid. I’ll never marry anybody but you, and I’ll never let you marry that brute.”

She kissed him deeply, and pulled him in close towards her body. “I don’t want your words, Fili – promise me with _yourself_.” And he felt her hands running all over him, pulling him down urgently. “Give me yourself,” she whispered.

“I want you,” he heard himself growl, “I need you, Sigrid...”

And Fili pushed her over onto her back, and hitched up her skirt to her waist, earning a soft gasp from her as she felt him slide his fingers between her legs, finding her slick and open. He pushed her back all the way on the floor, so that she lay before him helplessly prone, and he bent down, lowering his blond head between her thighs, and slowly kissed her salty lips.

He heard her moan and he kissed her again, this time letting his tongue probe her folds, parting her lips with his finger and opening her up, exposing her intimately to his viewing delight as he heard her breathing coming in gasps and felt his pulse quicken in excitement. He found her cherry with his tongue, and wrapped his arms around her skinny legs, holding her down as he played with her, licking and sucking and inhaling her womanly scent, while she squirmed under his grip and gave little cries under her breath.

He knew she was ready for him, he could taste her juices and feel how open and yielding she was to his every touch, and he was ready himself. Each time he felt her quiver he felt a thrill rush through his body, and he wanted to watch her as he took her for himself – wanted to see her face as he satisfied her and made her feel him deep inside herself.

She opened her eyes to watch him, as he eased onto his knees, and leant over her body on his elbows. He could hardly breath as he looked back at her, concentrating hard on just positioning himself so he wouldn’t hurt her going in, while his rational mind teetered the edge of switching off completely.

“Fili, give it to me...”

And as he slid himself inside of her, hearing themselves both groan, he felt part of himself switch off for good as he concentrated on feeling how wonderfully warm and soft she was, how welcoming and enveloping, and tightly fitting to him. He tried to stay slow, and ease her into it, but he saw her face was blushed and feverish, and he felt his pleasure building with hers, ready to explode and consume him completely.

She was calling his name, he could hear her, and he could feel her hands gripping his hips as he took her hard and deep, feeling all the muscles in his face freeze in tension as his whole body hardened in expectancy, waiting for her to allow him his release.

“Sigrid, please...” He cried her name, and saw her mouth open and close as she tensed all over, and he felt her frantic trembling all the way through his body, and couldn’t hold on any more, he couldn’t stop the frenzied pulsing he felt run through him, as his breath collapsed and his face slackened. And all through himself he felt a surging, satisfying sensation of joy and love, and when he remembered to open his eyes he saw her lying still with a faint smile.

He collapsed on top of her, and felt her hands cradling his head, as he gasped for air. Feeling a sudden discomfort, he carefully eased himself out of her, bathing her thighs with a flood of his seed, making her moan contentedly.

“Sigrid, was that enough? Did I please you?”

He felt her hands toying with his blond braids, and stroking his head. “You please me every time I see you, Fili. And tonight... you’ve made me the happiest woman in the world.”

He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of his head between her breasts, hearing her heart beating through her skin and her white dress, and the warmth beside the fire making him drowsy.

“Are you still going to Mirkwood tomorrow?”

“I have to, Sigrid. You know that. We need Thranduil’s help, or we’re going to have to find somewhere else with enough food for us all to last through winter.” He stroked her breast through her dress, savouring her curves. “We can’t go through with this deal, we need another way... we need to be together.”

“I know. I’m just worried. I’m scared, Fili – I don’t want to be left all alone here like this.” He heard her sigh, and felt her chest rise and fall. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Just promise me you’ll be back safe.”

“I promise you, Sigrid. We’ll all be back soon, and nothing bad is going to happen to any of us.”

He sighed himself, exhausted and spent, and closed his eyes once more to let sleep sooth his troubled thoughts. And outside, the storm grew in strength and power, and the last thing he heard before sleep blacked out his mind was the howl of the wind on the streets outside.

 

***   ***   ***

 

As the hobbit and his dwarf companion made their way to the thick oak door of Thorin’s chambers, a chill breeze gusted their way and blew out the candles all around them, cloaking their part of the corridor in darkness.

_As if we need another portent of doom for tonight!_ Bilbo thought sulkily.

He could see from his companion’s silhouette that Kili remained undaunted, and he knew there was no chance the young dwarf would call off their trip now and make it another night instead. He was too much like his uncle for that.

They reached the door, flanked by two burning lanterns, and Kili raised an eyebrow his way. “Just remember, we’re playing the long game here,” the dwarf whispered, with an explanatory nod.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, and rapped three times on the sturdy door as loud as he could.

The sound of heavy footsteps racing towards the door was immediate, and Bilbo cleared his throat nervously.

The door was pulled wide open by Thorin himself, and they watched as he scanned the pair of them in turn, then looked towards the empty corridor as if expecting someone else.

“Kili, Bilbo, what brings you here? There hasn’t been any news, has there?” There was an urgency in Thorin’s voice that the hobbit didn’t like.

“News?” Bilbo queried. “Not that I know of. You don’t mind if we come in, for a second, do you Thorin?”

The dwarf king shook his head, and pulled the door wider to let them pass into his bedchambers. Or, as the hobbit thought bitterly, the bedchambers of Thorin _and Rose_. He half expected to see the woman sitting there, smiling smugly over at him from the bed she now shared with her husband-to-be, but they must have found a rare moment when she’d allowed Thorin out of her sight. No doubt she would be back soon though, ready to walk in at some opportune moment to feign perfect innocence at their sordid accusations.

He wondered how much time they had. “Are you alone, Thorin? Has Rose gone down to the bath-house before supper?”

But Thorin shook his head, staring balefully at the window. “Nobody has seen her since she went out to the lake this morning.” He turned to Kili coldly. “Although they tell me your _elf_ went looking for her just after she’d left.”

Kili’s face froze, his eyes darting quickly between the hobbit and his uncle, as if he was waiting for one of them to elaborate for him. “Do you mean, Tauriel’s not back either?”

Thorin glared at his nephew. “ _Neither_ of them are back! They’ve been gone all day. And Rose was only going out for a stroll– I sent for the best tailor from Laketown to measure her up for a wedding dress at three o’clock... but she wasn’t here!”

Bilbo turned to look at Kili, wondering what he wanted to do. This hadn’t been the plan. But the younger dwarf was standing with his hand over his mouth, staring at his uncle.

“So why are they not back yet, Thorin? That was over three hours ago! It’s been dark for ages now. Have you sent anyone out to look?” Kili sounded more upset than his uncle.

“Of course I have!” The dwarf king thundered. “I sent Dwalin and Glóin out to look for her two hours ago – they searched the whole shoreline near the rocks, right where Rose said she would be – but there was no sign of either of them.” He marched up to Kili, and glared down at him. “I swear, if your _elf_ has done something to her, I’ll – ”

“You’ll what? What are you talking about, uncle? Tauriel would never hurt anyone, how can you say that? Why didn’t someone _tell_ me she was missing?”

“Look,” Bilbo began, trying to diffuse the tension. “How about you both calm down? It’s only a few hours, they’ve probably just got lost in the bad weather. We can all go out and look for them, _together_ , and I’m sure we’ll find them both safe and well...” He trailed off, seeing the two dwarves staring at him attentively.

Kili nodded in agreement. “That sounds like a good plan, Bilbo. I’m going out now to look for them – I’m not sitting around waiting for her to come back, she might be in trouble out there!”

Thorin clapped his nephew on the back. “And I will join you – I will send for more help to scour the shore.”

They both turned to Bilbo, expectantly, and he felt another urge to sigh coming on. He didn’t want to go out into the dark, not tonight, not with gods-knew-what crawling around on the windswept hillsides... He remembered the lights he’d seen earlier that evening, and felt himself shiver.

_But I can’t let Thorin down now, he’ll think badly of me for sure!_

Ignoring the howling wind outside and swallowing down the sense of dread building in the pit of his stomach, the hobbit nodded. “I’ll come with you. Let’s go and find them!”


	7. Through the fog and filthy air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin, Kili and Bilbo head out to search the lakeside, and Fili leaves for Mirkwood with Bard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've managed to write this a bit faster than I thought, so I'll just stick it up now. I might be busier than anticipated this weekend, so the next chapter might not get finished until early next week... it kinda depends on how well the battery on my ancient laptop lasts while I'm in transit home! :/

At Thorin’s signal, the sentry lifted the heavy steel lever and opened the Erebor gate. From where he was standing at the front of their party, Kili felt the full force of the freezing wind hammer against his cheeks, and impatiently drew his hood tighter around his head with its leather toggle. By his side, his uncle brandished a burning torch aloft, motioning into the wild night air streaming in from the open black portal.

“Are you ready, friends?” he cried, fixing his dwarven host with a grim stare. “Let’s go and find our Queen-Under-the-Mountain!”

Kili looked around at the cheering dwarves, wondering how quickly they could complete a full search of the lakeside. As well as Dáin’s hundred, Thorin had managed to recruit most of his original company to the search – even the wizard, Gandalf, was coming along, although nobody had managed to locate Fili. Kili assumed his brother was still with Sigrid, and kept his mouth shut when asked. Not that he didn’t miss his brother’s steadying, reassuring company...

For the last couple of hours, as they’d organised their trip, Kili had been on edge. He knew something was wrong. Something had happened to her. Rose might have been hopelessly ill-equipped when it came to navigating the wild woods, but Tauriel was certainly not. She was at home outdoors – she was from Mirkwood – and she could defend herself from almost anything. He didn’t know what had happened, but he was going to find out. He had to find her.

He was desperate to get started with the search. Already, they’d spent too long packing provisions and camping gear for the night ahead – since Thorin meant to stay out until the search was successful, and for once Kili was in full agreement with his uncle. He didn’t mean to set foot in Erebor again until he had Tauriel by his side. His uncle had declared Fili and Bolli to be in charge until his return, and Bolli had been left with full instructions to man the gates and send reinforcements to the search from among the Laketown men if he should see the signal fire lit.

For earlier on, Thorin had listened at length to Bilbo’s account of the evening fires burning on the distant shore, with growing alarm. If it was true that there was a sizeable number of orcs remaining out on the scrubby hillside, then they must be dealt with immediately. Such a hostile force on their doorstep could mean starvation over winter if Dáin’s supply line of provisions was compromised. Not to mention the danger to public safety for the many citizens that Thorin was now charged with looking after.

Kili watched as the gate completed its slow ascent, the bolts at the top of the mechanism clicking into place at the bottom of the gate, and the terrible rumbling growl finally silenced. Before them all, the night loomed black and heavy, with nothing visible under the sodden, misty sky, and the wind howling about their ears like a spirit possessed.

His torch in hand, Thorin stepped forward into the darkness, and cried out in old-style Ereborian Khuzdul. “For the honour of our Mountain, and the love of our friends, we go forth to smite all enemies in the name of Mahal!”

The dwarves all surged forward through the gate as one, with Kili in place by his uncle’s side. Even Dáin’s Iron Hills-dwelling clans understood the gist of it. Yet the familiar dwarvish oath of the people of Erebor did not warm Kili’s heart tonight.

Until he found Tauriel safe and well – nothing was going to shake the icy feeling of fear that clutched and clawed deeply at his chest.

 

***   ***   ***

 

Sigrid opened her eyes in the darkness, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, feeling a blind sense of panic. She sat up immediately, listening hard, uncertain if she had heard the shuffling, heavy noise in her dreams or if it had come from outside the shuttered window by the front door.

But all she could hear was the wind howling round the ruined town.

“Sigrid?”

She heard Fili’s sleepy voice beside her, and felt his warm arm wrap around her hips, and relaxed somewhat. Although her ears were still trained on the door and its hidden outer threshold.

“I thought I heard something, Fili. Something moving outside.”

“It’s windy outside. Everything is moving.” He rubbed her back clumsily. “Come back to bed.”

Sigrid took another look around the room. The fire had gone out while they slept, and the temperature had dropped considerably, although it was not cold enough yet to suggest it was much after midnight. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered Fili’s declarations and promises, and all the things he’d done for her – and done to her – before they’d curled up under the blanket by the fire and fallen asleep.

_He said he loves me!_ she thought, and felt her cheeks warm despite the cold air.

She lay back down under the blanket, and put her arm around his waist, fitting her body snugly against his and breathing in his smoky, masculine scent. Feeling herself relax against him, her worries were instantly forgotten and she smiled to herself as she closed her eyes.

And then she heard it.

There were footsteps coming towards her house.

Thick, heavy footsteps, coming straight towards the front doorway – and scratching at it, trying to get in...

She felt Fili instantly stiffen and sit up, scrambling to his knees to put himself between her and the doorway – and she watched in horror as the door swung open and in came a large figure in a thick cloak carrying a lantern...

_Oh, shit_. _This wasn’t supposed to happen!_

The man with the lantern stepped through the doorway, catching them both in the yellow glare, and Sigrid felt her sense of fear quickly turn to a deep, sickening embarrassment. She saw Fili – caught stark naked beside her and frozen like a rabbit in the lamplight – and felt a sudden urge to laugh hysterically.

“Hi there, Da’. We uh... weren’t expecting you back... just yet,” she explained, watching as her father quickly took in the scene on the floor and started shaking his head.

“I can see that. And just what do you think you are doing there with my daughter, _Prince_ Fili?”

Fili quickly took what he could of the blanket and covered himself, blinking in shock at Bard’s sudden entrance. “Hi Bard – my lord – I was just... _talking_ to Sigrid – ”

“– You were talking without your clothes, is this how it works where you come from?”

“Uh, no. There was – ”

“Maybe I should go and ask your uncle and see what he says?”

Sigrid leapt to her feet, standing between the dwarf and her father. She still had her white dress on, which she hoped possibly counted for something.

“Da’! Fili came round earlier, in the storm, and I was just drying his clothes,” she pointed to the clothes heaped over the chair by the fire, in various degrees of disorder. “He came round to talk to me about stopping this stupid match with Bolli!”

Bard closed the door behind himself, and stared at the two of them, nodding his head slightly. “I bet he did.”

But Fili had regained his self-possession at last. “It’s true, my lord. My brother and I have decided we must go to Mirkwood and speak to King Thranduil directly – ” Sigrid saw he had her father’s attention now, “ – we will try to reach an agreement with him ourselves, so this deal that Dáin and my uncle have agreed can be undone!”

Sigrid saw her father fix his eyes on her face, a look of concern showing through. She gave him a nod, to show she was serious, and gave him her best pleading stare. Her father sighed.

“And why would you do this, Fili? The elven king is not your friend, and your uncle is surely unwilling that you should go on such a journey?”

Fili looked down, and nodded. “You’re right, my lord. My uncle would forbid our journey if he knew – so neither Kili nor I will tell him. We shall leave early tomorrow morning before anyone is awake, and hope to be long on the road before we are missed.”

Bard raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “And why, Fili?”

Fili swallowed, and met Bard’s icy stare directly. “Because, my lord, I love your daughter. I wish her to be my wife, and I cannot allow her to marry such a spiteful suitor as has been arranged.” He spat the last words out, speaking from the heart, and Sigrid saw her father appreciated the sentiment. He stared at Fili thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded.

“Very well, Fili _son of Dis_.” He strode over to the chair by the fire, and gathered Fili’s clothes from the back, before perching casually on the chair himself. He turned to face them both, and flung the clothes underarm towards the dwarf. “I will allow you to marry my daughter – on two conditions. One – she must be happy to be your wife.”

Sigrid nodded emphatically at her father. “I am, Da’! I love him!” She stared imploringly at her father, and took a step closer to Fili, still wrapped on his knees in the blanket.

But her father’s face was unmoved. “And the second condition, Fili – you must allow me to accompany you on this trip tonight – and we must leave immediately.”

Sigrid saw Fili’s eyes widen, and she smiled. She took another step towards the dwarf, moving just behind him so he was within her reach once more.

“My lord, I would be very grateful for your company! I was going to ask you to join us myself, when you returned in the morning... but may I ask why you wish to leave so soon?” He gave Bard a puzzled look. “It is not yet midnight, surely?”

Bard shook his head. “No, it isn’t. Tilda and Bain only drifted off at eleven o’clock, and I left them at my sister’s house when she went to bed. But we cannot wait until the morning, Fili. I assume you wish to cross the lake and the river mouth to reach the edge of the Mirkwood, rather than going the longer route over land and then crossing the river directly?”

Fili nodded, not understanding.

Bard gestured to the window. “That storm out there is going to worsen over night, and come tomorrow – the river will be high, and fast, and sheer folly to try and cross. I rather think it might be a dangerous voyage now as it is, with the amount of rainwater we’ve already had, but if we leave it to tomorrow when more rain has fallen upstream then we’ll never make it across. We must leave as soon as we can!”

Fili nodded, concern dawning on his face. “Then I must find my brother at once, and gather my things together.”

Sigrid felt her heart sink, unwilling to let him go from her sight already. “Must you both go so soon?” she asked in a small voice.

Bard gave his daughter a tender smile. “I’m afraid so, Sigrid my love. You will look after your brother and sister won’t you, and tell them I’ll be back in a few days?”

Sigrid nodded, feeling tears suddenly welling up in her eyes, as she saw Fili awkwardly dress himself under the blanket. Her father rose to his feet and marched through the inner door, setting to his own packing in the room beyond.

“Sigrid, we’ll be back soon.” Fili stood up, back in his damp clothes, and gave her a tight embrace. He turned to her, and she saw his blue-grey eyes were wide and dark in the lamplight. “I love you, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His lips met hers, and she let him kiss her deeply and urgently, but at the sound of her father’s footsteps returning he broke away. “I will find some way for us to be together, trust me.”

She felt a tear run down her face. “I trust you,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Fili brushed the tear away from her eye once again, and she smiled for him, not wanting him to think she was weak and silly.

Her father came stomping through, and Fili rose to his feet. “My lord, I will go to find my brother, and let him know we need to leave now – I shall return as soon as I can, so we can set off.”

Bard nodded to Fili. “I’ll finish packing, and wait for you and Kili here.”

Fili turned to Sigrid, giving her a quick, sad smile, and marched towards the door. Sigrid watched him leave, gone from her side in a flash to be swallowed up by the wild night outside, and felt another tear trickle down her cheek.

“Do you really love him, Sigrid? Has he been good to you?” Her father’s voice sounded vaguely worried, and she turned to him in surprise.

“You know he’s a good one, Da’. He saved my life – he saved Tilda and Bain’s lives too – and he’s honest! He’s not like the rest of his kind.”

Bard nodded seriously. “I just hope we can reach some deal with Thranduil. There’s no way in the seven hells that I will ever allow you to marry that awful dwarf.” He looked at his daughter with affection. “You deserve to marry someone who will treat you with respect, like the queen you are.” He looked towards the door. “You deserve to marry someone you love, and who loves you back.”

Sigrid smiled. “Thank you, Da’. I’m sorry you caught us like that, we weren’t trying to be disrespectful...”

“It’s alright, Sigrid – I was young once, you know.”

Sigrid watched as her father smiled to himself, and left to finish his packing. She turned to the window, listening to the rain lashing down, and shuddered. It was no night to be abroad outside. It was becoming truly frightful out there. Her father was the best sailor she knew, and even he had sounded concerned about their planned journey...

She said a silent prayer under her breath to all the gods she could name, praying for them to keep her loved ones safe from harm, and decided to relight the fire in the hearth. It was a task she always enjoyed, one that she’d always found comforting, and hopefully it would distract her from her worries even now.

Yet she had no sooner got a little fire going in the grate, when she heard the door open again, and a very wet looking dwarf staggered into the house.

“Fili, you’re back soon! Is everything okay?”

Fili looked pale, and on instinct she reached out for him and took his hand in hers. “My brother is gone out with Thorin, and the rest of our troops.” Sigrid saw her father step forward to listen. “Tauriel and Rose went for a walk earlier today and haven’t returned, so Thorin has launched a search party for them.” He sighed. “I feel like I should be out there with them.”

Sigrid and Bard exchanged a glance, and Fili shook his head quickly. “I’ve packed my gear. I’m ready to go. They have enough troops with them – they don’t need me.” He stared at both of them in turn. “I just hate letting Kili down.”

Fili squeezed Sigrid’s hand, and gave her a serious look. “When you see my brother, tell him I’m sorry, but I had to go to Mirkwood with your father. We didn’t have any more time to wait.”

Sigrid nodded. She could see the guilt across his face. “I will, Fili. I’m sure he’ll understand. He would do the same if it was for Tauriel – you know that.”

Bard came up behind her, a heavy bag on his back. “We should leave, right now. The storm is worsening already.” He gave Sigrid a hug. “Stay safe, my little princess. You’re the heir to Laketown and its ruler while I’m away. Look after your brother and sister – and all the rest of the people here.” He kissed her forehead. “I know you always do.”

Her father stepped towards the door, and Fili was left standing before her, his blond braids dripping water onto the floor. He gave her a tight hug, and she felt the rain in his hair against her cheek as he kissed her lightly on the lips. “I will be thinking about you all the time Sigrid.”

She gave him a squeeze, and felt him drift away from her towards the door.

She forced herself to smile for them. “Come back safe, the both of you – don’t get shot at by the Mirkwood guard or lost in the forest! And send the elf king my regards.”

The two of them gave her one last nod, and disappeared through the door.

She listened to their footsteps as they walked away from her, their distance apart growing already with every step, and suddenly felt horribly alone. The rainwater from Fili’s hair was already turning cold on her face, and their sounds already disappearing into the churning wind.

Sigrid returned to the fire, not wanting to look back at the little puddle of water he’d left in the doorway, and draped herself in the blanket he’d worn. It still smelled of him. She sat on the floor, with the blanket, and stared into the flames with teary eyes, wondering when she’d next see him again.

 

***   ***   ***

 

Down by the lakeshore, the wind blew fierce and raw. Bilbo had never felt such a hostile force assail his body, not even in the snowbound mountains. The wide expanse of lakewater meant there was nothing to shield the search party from the air’s elemental wrath, and when the gusting was strong he found it hard to even walk.

Closer to the lake, there came dwarvish shouting as another heavy wave broke with a crash on the beach, and the hobbit turned away from the shore, worried he was going to get another soaking from the freezing spray.

_Where can they be in this? They must be sheltering somewhere!_

The hobbit was desperate to find the two missing lady folk. It aggrieved him to see Thorin and Kili so upset – even if that woman was a scheming hussy. And he knew what he’d saw earlier on. There had been lights on the far shoreline. Something was out there.

_Probably round about where we are now_ , the hobbit thought glumly. _But whatever it was, there’s no sign of it here any more... Not yet anyway._

They’d been searching for hours, and so far no trace of the pair had been found. Thorin had made a long line of his troops, combing along the shore from the lake into the woods, walking in single file and calling and looking for clues. He led in the middle, setting the pace and casting his voice deep against the storm to call out for Rose. Gandalf meanwhile was keeping to his own path, winding around in the wind as if he was trying to see something through the dense blackness. And Kili mainly seemed to be running about, darting from various hollows in the ground to suspicious looking shrubs, trying in vain to find some tracks or traces of his elf.

Bilbo wished there was something he could say to make the young dwarf feel better, but he didn’t want to get in Kili’s way right now.

From up in the shaking treeline off to his right, Bilbo heard a sudden cry. He stopped dead in his tracks, an icy prickle of fear at his spine, but realised that these Khuzdul cries were exited, rather than fearful. He turned to Bofur, searching by his left shoulder, and gestured to the land-side under the trees.

“What are they saying?”

Bofur pulled up the flaps of his big, ear-muffed hat to get a better range on his hearing, listening intently to the voices up the beach.

“They’re saying they’ve found a fire – or the remains of one anyway.” He nodded to Bilbo. “Let’s go and have a look, I’m sure that lake isn’t going to miss us down here _._ ”

So the two of them trudged up the slope towards the torches by the trees, joining the circle around Thorin and Kili as they examined the evidence.

All Bilbo could see were the sodden remains of a campfire – and not even a particularly large one either. Half burned logs had been unceremoniously raked and scattered, but the main area of burning could still be seen clearly by the blackened ground and thick layer of cinders. And there was something else – a strange odour hung in the air, despite the blowing gale.

The hobbit thought it might well be coming from the ashes themselves – as though something putrid had burned on the fire and left behind a foul film of grease that had stained the scorched earth. It was a smell that made him think of hyenas, and wolves, and other carrion-eating predators that skulked around in the shadows and looked for warm-blooded, soft-skinned prey. He took an uneasy glance around at the swaying alder trees, now stripped of their leaves completely and twisting wildly in the wind, waving their arms in warning to all the poor souls who might mistake the message their mortal senses were sending them.

Bilbo felt an urge to flee deep in his bones, and noticed a ripple of agitation pass among his fellow travellers. Dwarves were muttering to themselves and to their neighbours, pointing at the fire and casting suspicious glances at the black shadows hidden beyond their torches.

“It’s just an old campfire.” Bofur for one was unimpressed. “Bit smelly right enough, but what does that prove?”

But Thorin dropped down to his knees, and rolled the cinders between his fingers. He raised the sooty residue to his nose, and sniffed it.

“Orcs,” he said simply. “They were here, in these woods, not long ago.” He shared a glance with Kili. “It is impossible to know how many there were – we need to search the wider area.”

Bilbo saw Kili stare dolefully down at the scattered logs, while his uncle rose to address the host. “Everyone, listen to me! Stay where you are! And be on your guard for any sign of the enemy!”

Finished, he turned back to Kili, and placed his arm on the dwarf’s shoulder, urging him up. “Kili, help me search around the fire.” He motioned to Bilbo, Bofur, and the rest of his company, who had come to join him from the waiting line of dwarves. “We need to look around carefully, look for disturbances in the grass, for marks on the earth – we need to get an idea of how many of them might be out here, since Mr Baggins tells us he could see several of these fires from Erebor.”

He caught Bilbo’s eye in the torchlight, and the hobbit drifted over to him. Thorin’s blue eyes were cold, hardened by the commands he was used to issuing, but Bilbo could see the colour on his cheeks, and knew he was anxious.

“How many fires did you say you saw, Bilbo?” Thorin’s voice was soft and concerned, barely audible against the screaming wind.

“About six or seven, I think.” He turned his head back in the direction of the Lonely Mountain, its presence only signalled by some far-off lights that shone out from the ruined streets of Dale. “It looked to me like they started somewhere roundabout here – and then carried on to the Ravenhill tower.”

Thorin nodded. “Then that’s where we shall head.” He was about to turn away, but Bilbo caught his arm, and the dwarf king stopped as if in surprise.

“We’ll find her, Thorin – we’ll find them both.”

Thorin looked him in the eye somewhat sheepishly, and gave a slight nod. “I am grateful to you for coming out with us tonight, Bilbo. I know how much you hate the rain.”

Bilbo smiled faintly and shook his head. “The rain will stop eventually, Thorin... I won’t let it stop me from serving my king.”

Thorin stared at him uncertainly for a moment. “Stay close to my side tonight, Bilbo. I don’t know what lies out here in the hills, and I don’t want you getting lost in the dark.”

The hobbit was about to retort something back in reply, but his lips froze on his face, as more shouting reached his ears from the nearby woods. He exchanged a glance with Thorin, and the two of them set off, running through the jagged branches towards the source.

Seeing the light of torches up ahead, they found Dwalin and Kili, shouting at each other in Khuzdul and staring at one of the gnarled alders fringing a small clearing in the wood.

Bilbo took a step forward, peering at the little tree, wondering what it was that could have captured the dwarves’ attention. But it was only when Dwalin moved that he noticed it.

Round about a hobbit’s head height off the ground, there was an arrow sticking out of the tree. Dwalin was pointing to it, saying something in his language to Thorin, but Bilbo could see what he meant. It was an elvish-style arrow, with stripey brown feathers on its tail – and a wooden shaft that was still strong and polished.

Someone had fired this arrow recently. Very recently, considering the storm. Although whatever the intended target had been, it had obviously missed its mark...

Bilbo looked to Kili, and saw the dwarf standing still, his fists clenched, as he took in the sight before him with a stony glare. The hobbit sidled up to the dwarf, speaking gently.

“Is it hers, Kili? Do you recognise it?”

But the dwarf just nodded dumbly, and continued to stare. Bilbo looked around nervously, hoping there wasn’t anything else lying around for them to find.

“She had arrows like this. With the tawny owl fletching. That’s how they make them in Mirkwood.” He cast an angry glance around the woods. “But there’s no sign of anything else of hers around here! I don’t know where she’s gone!” His face was a mask of anguish, and the hobbit felt worry balling up within his own chest.

“Kili, no sign is maybe a good sign, you know? We need to keep on searching.”

The young dwarf nodded. His long dark hair clung to the sides of his face as the rain continued to lash down, and it was hard to tell in the dim glow of the torch whether it was tears or just more streaming rainwater streaming down his face.

“I know. You’re right, Bilbo. We shouldn’t stay here – there’s nothing more to see. I don’t want to find her arrows – I want to find _her_!”

Kili turned his back on the tree, marching furiously away from it towards the rest of their company, but stopped when he noticed the wizard stepping through the trees to find them.

Bilbo regarded Gandalf curiously, wondering what he had come to say, and a hush fell on the dwarves as they noticed his approach. Thorin addressed him.

“Gandalf, what is it? Any sign of the enemy?”

The wizard’s jaw was set heavy, and his eyes were grim. “Thorin, there are lights coming from the far shore. It would seem that the entire tower of Ravenhill is lit up from within.”

Bilbo saw Thorin frown. “The whole tower? Lit up without concealment?” He shook his head. “So it seems our enemy is sheltering from the storm in the tower. Maybe we shall not let them leave it alive. Dwalin?” He called to his loyal friend and retainer. “How many hours’ march to the tower at Ravenhill, for the entire host?”

Dwalin thought for a moment, with all the dwarven eyes upon him. “For all of our dwarves to march there in this weather, I would say two hours, Thorin. The going is rough, and the ground will become treacherous in the next mile when the hills climb.”

Thorin considered. “What do you say to taking control of the host, while I head there alone, through the trees, with a scouting party? You can form a defensive crescent around the tower behind us, up from the lakeside, and rendezvous with us before we attack.”

Dwalin nodded. “It will be a pleasure, my lord – to give my sword another taste of orc blood before this night is out. I shall lead your men as you command, and look for you by the boulders near the doorway, if it pleases you?”

The dwarf king nodded. “Agreed. I shall take Kili, Bilbo, Balin and Glóin on ahead. We will wait for you at those rocks, and set our plan of attack.”

Bilbo felt a stab of fear run through him at the thought of going near that high, lonely tower again. But beside him, Kili was nodding eagerly. “Let’s go, let’s do it.”

The wizard frowned. “The tower is all lit up, Thorin. It is visible from far and wide – I would guess even from Erebor, through the mists. Do you think it likely our enemy would make their stronghold so obvious, if they believed themselves to be in any danger from attack?”

Thorin scowled. “What would you have me do, Gandalf? If we are outnumbered now, we will still be outnumbered tomorrow, but then our enemy will be gifted one more day to prepare.” He looked around solemnly at his friends and comrades. “They will not expect us to attack in such conditions. We shall have the upper hand if we go now, with the element of surprise.”

“I’m with you, Thorin!” Balin cried. “We are more than half way there now – let’s finish the job tonight and save our queen and our lands.”

Bilbo saw Glóin nodding vigorously. “Let’s warm our blood up with a good fight – I do not wish to go home to bed when there are orcs waiting to be killed!”

Thorin smiled, and turned to the hobbit. “Are you coming, Mr Baggins?”

Bilbo swallowed. He was afraid – and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit to it either. But he was more afraid of letting Thorin go charging off into the cold, dark tower with his nephew. The two of them were reckless and emotional at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times. He wasn’t about to stand by and let Thorin or Kili get themselves killed in some reckless act of mindless bravery.

“I’m with you, Thorin. I’m staying by your side, remember?”

Thorin nodded appreciatively under the torchlight.

“So be it, Mr Baggins. Let’s get started on this trek!”

The wizard raised his hand to the dwarves. “If you insist on leaving right now and making for the tower, Thorin Oakenshield, then I must insist on coming with you. I won’t slow you down – and you might have need of me yet, before the night is out.”

Bilbo glanced back towards the lonely lights of Dale, half hidden by the blanketing fog that was blowing in from the lake, and wondered how long it would be before the night was in fact out. And how long it would be before him and his friends saw safety again far away from this evil shoreline and the cursed Ravenhill tower...


	8. The Jaws of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid arrives at Erebor, and Kili reaches Ravenhill.

Finally on the verge of sleep again, after too long staring watery-eyed into the sputtering flames of her hearth, Sigrid woke with a jolt to the sound of clanging outside.

It sounded like ugly music – discordant, surging music– but then she realised what she was hearing and sat up in wonder.

It was the sound of a bell ringing. And though she’d never heard it before, she knew it could only be the rusty old iron bell from the crumbling Dale watch tower – someone was ringing it for the first time in decades, sounding an alarm for the whole town to hear. The dull leaden chime came plunging from the top of the tower turret, near the Erebor gates, and echoed eerily all around the broken, huddled streets like a woken phantom.

_What’s going on now? Who’s ringing the bell?_

Confused, she rose to her feet and checked the window by the door, and felt panic flare once more in her heart. There were people running in the streets outside. Old people, young people, children – all of her Laketown people. They all seemed to be charging up the hill towards Erebor.

Instinctively she looked to the skies, expecting to see the leathery wings and glowing eyes that had hunted her in the streets and haunted her dreams two night ago. But the sky was black and full of rain, without a spark of light.

_The dragon is gone_ , she told herself. _We killed it. It’s lying dead at the bottom of the freezing lake with a black arrow through its heart!_

Stumbling around blindly in the dim light for her clothes chest, she retrieved her thick winter cloak and shoes and stepped through the door onto the dark cobbled streets. And within seconds she was freezing – the wind was blowing as hard as ever – and the rain tore down in big waves from the open, swollen sky.

“Excuse me?” She called out to an older couple, hurrying arm-in-arm up the hill with pale, harried faces. “What’s going on? Where is everyone going?”

The grey-haired woman turned to her, a look of worry etched onto her papery skin. “They’ve sounded the alarm, young Sigrid – those dwarves up in their mountain have sent for us! There’s danger on the lake, they say. They’ve opened up their gates for us in refuge. You should come with us, now!”

Sigrid was confused. “What danger? What’s wrong?”

But already the old couple were moving on. “There’s no time to lose, Sigrid! Get your family and run to the gates!”

_Get my family? But, where are they?_

Mindful now of her brother and sister, Sigrid herself started running against the stream of people. Trying to avoid slipping on the wet cobbles, she raced as hard as she could for her Aunt Amma’s place. It lay all the way down the hill, by the charred pier that had once led to their real homes.

She reached it after just a few minutes – and couldn’t help but notice how the crowd thinned the further away she got from Erebor –  but the door to the old boathouse was hanging ajar, and inside lay dark and silent.

“They left a good twenty minutes ago, young lady.” She spun round, startled by the voice behind her, and saw an old man sitting on the street across the road. She recognised him as one of the old fisherman who’d stumble around drunk by the harbour – and she stared at him, wondering what he was doing all alone in the doorway opposite. It was no place to shelter from this storm.

The old man produced a small green bottle from inside his cloak, and took a thick swig, seemingly oblivious to the freezing rain and water sloshing around the gutters where he sat.

“Your auntie took them both up to Erebor. They left just after the man came round on horseback. The one crying on about going to Erebor.”

Sigrid wondered whether the man was drunk, or whether it was her fault that she couldn’t understand him. “What man? When was this?”

The fisherman took another slug of his bottle. “He came riding down from Erebor, shouting to all the town to get inside the gates. Said there were bad things out on the lake, and that we should run and hide behind their big stone walls.” He looked at her with his blurry green eyes, and smiled. “But I don’t want to hide no more, pretty Miss. Tell your father I’m staying here. I’ll be alright with my old Sally.”

Sigrid looked around, searching for a companion. “With Sally?”

The old man produced his bottle, and toasted it high in the air at her with a wild-eyed laugh of hilarity. “Sally says have a wonderful time hiding in Erebor, young lady! But I’m staying here. I’m not getting locked in a mountain with a bunch of dwarves, no chance.”

“But why do they want us to hide? What bad things?” She thought of Fili and her father, out alone on the lake heading for Mirkwood, and felt afraid.

“Beats me, young Miss. All I know is when you’ve locked them outside, you’ve locked them inside with you.” He grinned up at her with his missing teeth, leering up like an ancient corpse collapsed in the doorway.

Sigrid turned to the lake, scanning it for signs of trouble. But it was hard to keep her eyes open with the weight of the gale pressed against her face, and she could make out nothing except blackness out over the water. She turned to the man, offering him her hand.

“Come with me to Erebor, it’s not safe for you down here on your own. It’s freezing cold out here!”

But the fisherman shook his head at her in disdain. “I’m staying here. Right where I am. I have my Sally to look after me, and that’s all I need.” He looked at her, a sad look in his fuzzy eyes. “You’re young, and you’re pretty, and you should go and be safe, young Miss. Go and find someplace safe.” His eyes faded as he lost interest in her, and he reached for his bottle once more.

“Are you sure you won’t come? At least go and wait in one of the houses where it’s dry – you could get a fire going!”

But the old man wasn’t listening. “Run along, Miss, run along now. Don’t get locked in with them, no, no, no.”

_I need to find Tilda and Bain! They’ll be worried. I can’t force this man to come with me!_

Reluctant to leave the crazy old man on his own in the gutter, Sigrid took her cloak off, and draped it around his shoulders.

“Here, take this. Please go and wait inside one of the houses. I’ll send someone to get you once I find out what’s going on and we’ll light you a fire to dry off in.”

The old man gazed up at her and gave her a lopsided smile. “You’re a kind one as well.” He smiled knowingly. “But it won’t save you. You should be running along now, Sigrid.”

Feeling cold and uneasy, Sigrid turned her back and ran all the way up the hill towards Erebor. She needed to warm herself up – without her cloak, she had nothing on except her loose white nightgown – but at the back of her mind she felt a growing wish to get away from the lake, and the crazy old fisherman, and his glassy-eyed, foggy gaze.

As she reached the summit of the hill, her lungs burning, she took another look across the lake. From her new vantage point on high, she thought she could see something out over the water. There was something bright on the far shoreline – something visible that shone through the mists.

_There is something out there! But what is it? What about my friends? Are they safe?_

Sigrid staggered up the last of the hill towards the Erebor gates, and saw that they were still open. On a gust of wind she stepped under the grille and through to the large sentry chamber on the inside, passing the guard at the gates and giving him a nod. It was Fergis, one of the young men from her old street in Laketown.

“We were about to close the gate, Sigrid! Why are you so late?”

She opened her mouth to speak, concerned for her family. “Where are Tilda and Bain, have you seen them?”

Fergis shrugged. “Everyone has gone down to the lower levels – there’s a big hall where everyone is to stay for tonight, once the gates are locked.”

“ _Why_ are we locking the gates, Fergis? What’s going on?”

He looked at her, and she saw the pallor under his youthful bravado. “There’s an army of orcs out there, Sigrid, so they say. Bolli has given orders – ”

But Sigrid was appalled. “ _Bolli_ has given order? Who is he to give orders around here? Where are Thorin, and Kili?”

Fergis swallowed. “They’re still not back yet. They went out to search for the queen-to-be, and the elf Tauriel, but none of Thorin’s party has returned.” His voice was low, and worried. “There’s no sign of your father either, Sigrid. Nobody knows where he’s gone. And Thorin’s heir is missing too. so Bolli has command of the gate, and he explicitly told me – ”

The young man trailed off, hearing the shuffling sound of footsteps from the passageway inside.

“I told you to close the gate now, boy! What are you waiting for?”

Sigrid turned round, trying to mask the scowl she felt cracking her face already. She recognised that voice. “You can’t close it yet, Fergis – there’s an old man by the lake, someone needs to go and get him.”

As smug and pompous as ever, the dwarf Bolli came swaggering down the corridor towards them both, a torch in his hand. Studiously ignoring her protestations, Fergis got to work straight away, setting the mechanism into gear, and Sigrid felt a tremor running through the earth as the trellis doors wound their way shut against the night outside.

“Lady Sigrid, so you decided to join us after all. And where is your father, might I ask?”

She thought for a moment, wondering what to say that wouldn’t raise any further alarm. “He’s gone fishing.” She said curtly. “He’s not gone far, but he said he might stay out a couple of days. The trout love the rain.”

She hoped it didn’t sound ridiculous.

But the dwarf seemed pleased with the news. He licked his lips and nodded to himself, as if deciding on some matter.

“Then you must come with me, Sigrid. The king has left me in charge of Erebor until his return, and I intend to keep everyone safe.”

She nodded her agreement, and he beckoned her further down the passage. “I heard everyone is to stay in the great hall downstairs? Is that wise, my lord? To have everyone cooped up in the one place? Surely – ”

“Surely it is not a woman’s place to correct her husband’s decision?”

Sigrid stared at him coldly in the corridor, feeling a flush of anger. “You are not my _husband_ , Bolli.”

But the dwarf leered back at her. “We’re not officially wed yet, it’s true – but you are officially paid for. And that makes you _mine_ , whether you agree to it or not.” He smiled smugly. “A deal is a contract, Sigrid. And in my people’s law, an offer of marriage is binding if accepted.”

She glared back at him. “But I haven’t accepted.”

He glanced at her blandly. “It makes no difference. It’s the head of kin whose consent is required, not the marriage partners. Why do you think young Fili agreed so readily to his marriage with Eyrun?” He chuckled nastily. “She’s hardly renowned for her wit or beauty.”

Sigrid felt her fingernails digging hard into her palms as she clenched her fists, but she kept her mouth shut. She was not going to give anything away to him.

They came to a small doorway, and Bolli stopped and took a key from his pocket.

“Is this the way to the hallway, Bolli? I wish to see my brother and sister.”

He opened the door and waved her inside, following right behind her. “Your family are safe – I made special arrangements for them to have their own room below the hall. Seen as how they’re soon to be _my_ family and all.” He closed the door behind them, but Sigrid couldn’t see much of the room in his torchlight – there were no candles lit within here.

“Where are we, Bolli? Is this the way to the great hall?”

But he ignored her again. “You know, Sigrid, I don’t know why you hate me so much. You are a beautiful woman. I will look after you and your family like a husband should. My family in the Iron Hills are rich, and you need never worry about any of this silly governing nonsense that your father has you dabbling in. I will allow you the freedom to be a woman, and keep you safe in the Iron Hills where you will raise our children and run my household.”

Sigrid was rapidly losing her patience with the ugly dwarf. “Listen to me, Bolli. I do not consent to being your wife, and never shall do. My father will not allow it without my consent. Save your speeches and just take me to my family.”

Beside her, she heard him sigh. “Very well, Sigrid. Then we shall do this the hard way. Let me explain. You are the heir of Laketown, and the kingdom has been purchased by my family through the deal we have just made. But in order to seal this deal, you must become my wife. And so I must take you as my wife, one way or another.”

He reached his clammy hand out to her in the darkness, and she felt it trail around her waist and over her hips. “You will spend tonight with me, Sigrid, as my wife – and I will take you as is a husband’s right. You will submit to me every night, until you are sure to bear me my heir, and then you shall be sent to the Iron Hills where you will live out the rest of your days. As my wife. While I stay here in Laketown. As it’s heir assumptive.”

She saw his ugly face come closer to her in the darkness, and she flinched. “And what if I refuse?” she hissed.

Bolli smiled at her. “Look over there, Sigrid.” He held his torch aloft, and she turned to look over her shoulder, puzzled. “Over there in the corner,” he added.

She took a few steps forward into the room, but she still could not see anything, and then her leg hit against something hard and heavy. As she bent down to rub her foot, she realised Bolli had opened the door again, and was stepping out into the corridor.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

She heard him jingle his key in the lock, and too late realised her mistake.

“I will come for you later, Sigrid, when I have finished my duties for the night.”

She heard him stride away, back down the corridor, and she frantically tried the door, checking to see whether it would open. But there was no luck. She was locked in the darkened room.

Stepping gingerly back to the hard, heavy object, she reached forward to try and feel what it was, but her hands met something soft. And suddenly, with a growing sickness in her breast, she knew what it was.

It was a bed. Bolli had locked her in the guard’s chambers, and was going to come for her later. To try and lay his claim to her father’s kingdom by forcing her against her will.

_We’ll see about that, creep._

Shaking her head in revulsion, she sat in the darkness and waited for her eyes to adjust to the all-pervading gloom. There must be some way she could get out of here...

 

***   ***   ***

 

With another chilling gust of the stormy air deafening his ears, Kili turned back to face the rest of his group, willing them to move faster. They had been keeping a brisk pace ever since they parted ways with Dwalin and the main host, but he couldn’t stop the aching feeling in his heart that it was still not fast enough. What if they got there too late to save her? What if she was in pain right now? It was all Kili could do not to give into temptation to run as fast as he could to Ravenhill – through all the gullies and bogs and sinkholes, over all the rocks and streams – and scream her name at the top of his lungs until he was satisfied she knew he was coming for her.

_If she’s still alive_ , a macabre voice whispered in his thoughts. He pushed it angrily away to the side, fearful of tempting the gods by thinking such evil thoughts.

“We’re nearly there, Kili!” He heard his uncle shout to him as the gale slackened. “Stay close to us – don’t go running off until we know what we’re dealing with.” Taking longer strides to ensure he caught up with his nephew, Thorin clapped an arm around the young dwarf’s shoulders. You’re not going to help her if you get yourself ripped to pieces by an orc pack!”

Kili gritted his teeth and bit his tongue, trying to evaluate how much time would be lost to the rapidly steepening gradient of the shoreline before them. Seeing his gaze, Thorin nodded.

“The tower is just around the bend. Come – let’s find them!”

The little group huddled together to take the final climb, falling on each other’s steps in turn as those in the lead battled through the brambles and hidden dips to reach the colder air at the top of the hill. And finally, they reached the black summit and cleared the bend, catching sight of the Ravenhill tower lying half a mile away.

Kili looked up and gave a small cry.

There was light shining from every window, with flickering shadows that pulsed all around the holes in the masonry and cast jagged shapes around the foot of the high tower. It was no surprise the place was visible from far away – there must be a whole army sheltering inside.

But Kili noticed something else, something hanging from the one of the top floor windows on the lake-side face – something orange and green that flapped in the wind...

Kili pointed to the tower, his whole body growing cold inside with dread.

“It’s Tauriel, they have her!”

He tried to make out whether she was hurt, but he couldn’t see from the distance. Someone had strung her up by the wrists and gagged her, hanging her out of the top-floor window at the end of a metal pole. Her eyes looked closed, and she wasn’t moving much – but that was hardly surprising in the circumstances.

He prayed she was unharmed.

_She must be freezing up there, I have to get her down now!_

Kili felt an arm around his shoulder, and turned round in a blind panic. But instead of his uncle, he saw the wizard Gandalf eyeing him in consternation.

“Be careful, Kili. This looks like a trap. Let’s put our heads together and think about how to go solving this.”

The young dwarf looked back dully at the wizard’s keen grey eyes. He understood the words, but they meant nothing to him.

His uncle took a step towards him. “She’s alive, Kili, let’s think about this and make sure she stays that way.”

Kili nodded dimly, and looked back towards the tower. It wasn’t even half a mile away, not really. More like a quarter... a minute’s run, if that, and downhill all the way.

He took another glance up at the elf, swinging by her hands in the wind, and his instinct took over.

Kili set off at full throttle, charging blindly towards the tower, and the calls of his friends behind him were lost in the howl of the wind.

 

***   ***   ***

 

On the swaying boat, Fili fought back another urge to be sick.

This was only the second time he’d ventured onto the lake with Bard at the helm, but it was shaping up to be an even worse experience than the first. The waves were taller than he was. They were probably taller than Bard was.

He’d heard stories about rough seas before, but he’d never lived close enough to water to appreciate its raw, terrifying power. And he was trying even harder to not see it now – as if lying on the floor in the middle of the boat was going to help the ceaseless churning he felt in his stomach.

“Fili, get over here!”

Another wave came crashing over the side of the boat, drenching the dwarf in freezing black water, and he gasped in shock. He tried to get to his feet to find Bard, but the boat was listing crazily to one side all of a sudden, and he lost his footing and slid head-first into the wooden bulwark.

“Watch your step, Fili – we’re approaching the delta now!”

Fili spat out another mouthful of lake spray, and tasted blood on his lip. Wasn’t Bard supposed to be an amazing sailor? Couldn’t he find a smoother place to cross the river channel than here?

“Bard,” he called, trying to summon more power in his lungs to make himself heard above the wind and rain, “this is crazy! We need to get off this lake and get to the shore!”

“I know that!” Fili watched as the boatman paused to grip onto the wheel as the boat crested another wave and dropped sharply. “There’s nothing I can do right now – the sail is down but the wind is taking us straight onto the river!”

Fili heard the fear in the man’s voice, and forgot his sickness at once.

Bard beckoned him closer, and Fili stepped carefully, one pace at a time, towards the dark-haired man clutching at the wheel.

“What can we do, Bard? Surely we don’t want to get caught in the delta?”

Bard shook his head gravely. “No. We don’t. We need to use the oars, Fili, and try and steer ourselves to shore. We need to get clear of this wind channel.”

The man groped around with one hand by the bulwark at the bow, and produced a pair of oars. They were short and fragile looking things, and Fili eyed them dubiously, wondering whether something so short could turn the boat’s direction against the raging storm current.

And he never did find out.

Below his feet, the boat gave a long groan, and Fili felt a hideous shudder shake through the vessel as it reached the base of another trough, and scuffed off something on the bottom of the lake.

He met Bard’s eyes in horror, as the two of them were caught off balance by the sickening sound. And when the boat reared up again as the flood took hold, he was thrown clear off his feet and into the churning black lake.

“Bard!” He tried calling out, but his mouth was full of water, so he tried to breathe instead. The waves kept pelting him, each one of them forcing his head under the waterline, as the current dragged him on with a frightening speed.

He couldn’t see the boat anymore. He couldn’t see Bard, or hear him either. He had no idea where he was going, or even which way was up. The water was spinning him around, and he couldn’t breathe properly in the frothy, foamy, choking spray, no matter how hard he tried.

Everything was black around him, and Fili felt a burning pain in his lungs, and tried to fight the urge to inhale the smothering, black lake, but it held onto his chest, growing in pressure until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He took a breath – just one – but it brought no release from the pain. And as the suffocating cold water poured into his lungs, he felt himself panic and take bigger gulps, trying in vain to find some air in the water, until nothing remained but the pain spreading across his chest, eclipsing everything else, and the world went darker than the wild night above.

And by the time the strong, cold arms lifted him out of the water by the shore and shone their lamps on his face, Fili’s eyes were open wide, but the darkness remained.

 

***   ***   ***

 

Sigrid stiffened as she heard the footsteps approaching the door, ready to spring.

She’d been waiting under the bed for some time – she’d come to realise she had no idea how to unpick a lock like those they had in Erebor – and had given up in disgust and been forced to find a less sophisticated approach to getting out of her cell.

_Wait for him to come all the way inside, then go..._

She’d arranged all the blankets on the bed to look like she was sleeping by the headrest, but was in fact lying underneath the side nearest the door. And when she saw the little dwarf’s feet trotting past her – she was going to make for that door. And run as fast as she could to find some of her own people.

She heard the key jangling in the lock, and held her breath.

By the glow of a lamplight, she saw the bottom of the door swing open, and two small, leather booted feet strode in through the doorframe, making straight for the decoy just as she’d planned. Bolli really was an idiot.

Trying to be as soundless as possible, she rolled herself out from under the far side of the bed, and rose to her feet as smoothly as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bolli had clocked her, but she tore straight for the door, and slammed it hard with all her strength behind her, cursing it for having no latch on the outside that she could use to lock the cursed creature inside himself.

“Sigrid, come back here!” She heard him just behind the door frame, and decided to improvise as best she could. With as much force as she could summon, she hurled the door back into the room, and heard a groan of pain as the doorframe connected with Bolli’s head on the inside.

Wishing she had time to stop and gloat, she ran hard down the corridor, back towards the sentry room. Seeing Fergis still on duty at the gate, she waved excitedly at him, earning a confused grimace from the young man.

“Fergis, help me! Let me out! I need to go back to Dale!”

But the young man shook his head, eyeing her uncomfortably as if he thought she was a madwoman. “Sigrid, we’re not allowed outside, it’s dangerous. I can’t open the gates unless Bolli says – ”

“– Fergis, forget what Bolli says and listen to what _I_ say! My father is the King of Laketown, and I need to get out of this place right now!”

She glared at him, wondering why he was being so singularly unhelpful, but the sounds of footsteps reached her ears from the corridor behind her, and she realised she had no time to argue with him.

Shaking her head bitterly at the young sentry, she started down the dark corridor ahead of her, hoping it wouldn’t lead straight to a dead-end.

“Fergis, you’re going to regret being such a tool!”

And on she ran, turning another corner just beyond sight of the sentry-room, and seeing that this corridor led to a narrow, spiral staircase. This looked more promising.

Behind her, there came shouting.

“Where did she go?”

“Who, my lord?”

“You know who I’m talking about, boy! Where did Sigrid go? Are you – ”

And then Sigrid heard something else. A metallic, knocking sound, ringing through the sentry room and all the way up her staircase, sending a shiver through her as she held her breath in the drafty corridor.

Someone was knocking at the gate.

She heard Bolli and Fergis quieten, listening to the noise, and she herself stopped her flight.

_Who is this? Who’s coming now?_

And Sigrid felt her heart swell in sudden hope.

_Maybe it’s Thorin and Kili – they must have found Tauriel by now. Or maybe it’s my father and Fili, and they’ve decided to not go to Mirkwood after all..._

Smiling to herself, she almost ran down the stairs, but something held her back. She wanted to keep her distance from that ugly dwarf, just in case it should not be one of her friends at the door.

So she sat down instead on one of the cold, stone steps, and heard Bolli’s voice summoning all the authority he could muster.

“Who is there? Who is at the gate?”

And at first there was no reply, only the wind blowing outside and swirling around the sturdy, stone walls of the mountain stronghold. Sigrid felt her ears straining to hear, wondering if the wind was drowning out some faint sounds beyond her hearing.

But then she heard it. A woman’s voice, from beyond the gate.

“It’s me, it’s Rose, let me in – please!”

“Rose, it’s you? Where is Thorin?”

“How should I know? Just let me in, I’m so cold!”

Sigrid shivered as she heard the gate mechanism grinding into motion, and hesitated on the threshold of the staircase. Maybe Rose would know what had happened to Tauriel, and would give her some good news... but then again Sigrid wasn’t so sure she could count on the woman as her ally. She had so far seemed to be nothing but entirely self-centred, and Sigrid had no real wish to speak to her, or to go down and let Bolli lock her back in that cell again.

She had trouble believing that Rose would help her out of her predicament.

Still curious though, she took a few steps closer to the sentry room, and watched as the gate opened bit by bit.

Rose was standing there on the far side, her dress flapping all around her in the gale like a red flag, but her face remained covered by her dark wavy hair, blown forward on the wind. She looked like some dark, faceless goddess, and Sigrid wondered where she’d been all day.

Bolli was reaching out to her to help her inside, and Sigrid rolled her eyes in scorn. He hadn’t been acting in such gentlemanly way towards her, and she was his contractually-ordained bride.

She turned her back on the scene, and continued to climb the stairs, breaking into a run as she sought to find somewhere dark and safe in which to hide away until someone she could trust came back...

 

***   ***   ***

 

Oblivious to the rain, and the wind, and the rough, steep drop of the land beneath his feet, Kili ran on, sprinting towards the tower, his sword drawn in his hand, braced and ready for the first opponent he saw to feel the bite of his sword across their neck.

“Kili, stop! Come back!”

He could hear his friends and comrades behind him, trying to call for him – until they gave up and he fancied he could hear them running on behind him. But he didn’t turn back. He kept his eyes on the tower, waiting for the hail of arrows to come raining down, or for the first troop of orcs to charge at him from the Ravenhill tower...

But still nothing came. And he ran on freely, closing the distance between the hilltop and the tower door in less than a minute.

As he reached the doorway, panting heavily, he briefly stopped and wondered just what he was doing. Was he really going to invade the tower and take on an entire camp of orcs all alone...

“There’s nobody there!”

Behind him, he heard Thorin calling in astonishment. Kili took another look around, and realised he could hear nothing. There was no sound at all, save the shrieking, screaming wind whooshing round the tower.

There was nothing coming from inside its walls – no signs of life.

Urged on, he leaped through the doorway and mounted the stairway, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to get to her at the top of the tower.

And still there was nothing: no orcs, no orc prisoners, no signs of any living creatures at all. Just candles, strewn around the windows and ledges by the steps, lighting the way for him as he climbed and climbed the big spiral staircase leading him round and round.

And when the staircase finally ended, he tore across the tower and ran to the lakeside face, calling her name as he bounded forward.

“Tauriel, I’m here! I’ll get you down!”

He came to the window, and saw she was tied to the end of a broken iron flag-pole – one that had been propped up to lie out the window from inside the tower chamber. Carefully, so as not to disturb the balance on the pole, he began dragging it further inside the tower, pulling her back from the dark, stormy air to the safety of the building.

He could see her move now, and he knew she was okay, he knew she was going to be okay, as long as he could just get her inside...

He heard footsteps on the stairs, back the way he’d just come, and turned in alarm, expecting his luck to have run out.

But in the doorway, Thorin, Bilbo and Bofur all appeared at once and joined him wordlessly, helping him to pull the long pole all the way back inside.

“Tauriel, can you hear me?” Kili’s voice was hoarse with worry.

And the elf must have heard him, for she turned her head towards the sound, and nodded vigorously. With a cry of dismay, Kili could see she’d been blindfolded along with the black gag wrapped around her mouth and throat.

“You’re nearly there, _amralime_ – you’ll be back on your feet in a moment!”

And as soon as the elf was within reach, the young dwarf leant out of the top floor window and bundled his elven lover back inside, clutching at her body for signs of life and warmth.

“Tauriel,” he tried to soothe her, feeling her shake all over, and reached for his sword once more, deftly cutting through the blindfold first, making sure she was still conscious.

He gently unwrapped the filthy white cloth from her face, and smiled gratefully as he saw her green eyes staring back at him.

“Thank Mahal,” he whispered softly, and took his sword to her hands, cutting the rope that bound her wrists to the pole, wincing as he saw how bruised and sore her hands and wrists were after her ordeal.

“I will kill them all for doing this to you, my love, I swear.” Kili whispered to her, but she raised her hands to her face in response, struggling to reach the gag. He raised the sword again gently, and slowly cut through the thick black rag by her neck, making sure not to catch any of her skin in the process.

“Kili!” Her voice was a croak, wheezing and rough, but urgent. “Kili, you need to get out of here! All of you! You need to get back to Erebor. This whole thing is a trap – they’ve all gone to Erebor!”

The elf leant back into Kili’s arms, exhausted, and he held her tightly, feeling her body trembling from the cold. Numbly, he turned back to Thorin.

The dwarf king was staring at the elf, ashen faced.

“Tell me Tauriel,” Thorin spoke low and angry, approaching the elf as she lay on the floor in his nephew’s arms. “Where is Rose? What have they done with her?”

But the elf stared back at him sadly, and shook her head. She looked around the room, meeting the stares of all those assembled around her in the candle-lit chamber.

“My lord, Rose is fine. It was her that _did_ this.” The elf’s green eyes widened in dismay as she spoke, and her voice was a whisper of horror. “She’s taking _them_ to Erebor!”

 


	9. Hell is Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Thorin head back to Erebor

Sigrid climbed higher on the narrow stone staircase, crossing her fingers she wouldn’t stumble onto a dead end and find herself trapped in a corner if Bolli came this way. It was gloomy up here away from the main sentry room – there were no candles to light the way, but as the staircase reached a narrow stone corridor, Sigrid could see a metallic door to her right.

_This must lead outside, to the watchtower above the gates..._

She tried the handle, but the door was locked tight.

Cursing again under her breath, she eyed the rest of the corridor. There was a cold gust blowing into her face from the gaping black hole in front of her, and she took a cautious step towards it, not wanting to lose her footing, until she stumbled and nearly fell down another step.

Stopping dead, she braced herself against the narrow walls and felt forward with her left foot. There were more stairs ahead, but she had no idea where they led. The draft was strong, suggesting the stairwell might lead deep into the mountain, but the way was pitch black and the steps were invisible, and she had a sudden fear of falling off the staircase completely and disappearing forever into the dark heart of the Lonely Mountain.

_Was your father afraid of sailing out on the lake tonight? Was Fili? No, and I’m not going to let my family down either!_

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself to begin the climb down to the lower levels, but stopped dead as a bloodcurdling scream came echoing down the walls behind her.

_What was that? Who was that?_

Her heart beating very fast in the darkness, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to run headlong down the black steps, but she forced herself to stay still, trying to regain some composure.

 _It sounded like it came from the sentry room._.. _What if Fergis is hurt? What if that creep Bolli has set upon him?_

She didn’t really want to go back and look – but she had to. She didn’t want to be alone in the dark, imagining all kinds of horrors were coming after her, when really, there was probably nothing to be afraid of...

Probably.

She forced herself forward, her legs feeling light and unsteady as she tiptoed back down the corridor, listening hard for sounds of anyone coming. But there was nothing.

She made it to the narrow stone staircase that led to the gates, and stopped, her heart beating faster. Something inside her was telling her to leave now, and get away now, but she had to know, she had to know whether there was any danger or not, otherwise how could she keep Tilda and Bain safe from it when she found them...

She started walking down the stairs, one at a time, slowly and quietly.

And she began to hear a curious noise.

It sounded like someone coughing, or gasping, but the noise didn’t have the dry quality of normal coughing. It was a wet, frothy sound, one that at once intrigued and sickened her.

She reached the bottom of the stairs. Only a few metres lay between her and the sentry room... she just had to look round the wall.

Instinctively dropping to her knees, close to the floor where it was darker, she crawled to the far wall and peered round to look for the source of the strange noise.

And she was glad that she was already on her knees, otherwise she probably would have fallen and screamed. As it was, she clamped both hands over her mouth as she watched, worried of making a single noise that would alert anyone to her presence at the scene.

Rose was standing in the sentry room, a red silhouette against the wild, black sky. She was watching the dwarf Bolli, a bloody knife in her hands, smiling cruelly as he squirmed on his knees at her feet, clutching at a deep gash across his throat.

“This is for insulting me at dinner last night, _dwarf_.”

And as she spoke, the woman grabbed at Bolli’s throat, hauling him to his feet in a second, and twisted and pulled at something round his neck, causing the dwarf to writhe in pain.

Sigrid tried to close her ears to the stifled, muffled screams, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Every part of her body was frozen still in fear, hoping to not be seen by the terrible woman in the doorway.

Rose narrowed her eyes as the dwarf’s dying shudders grew weaker, and let the body drop from her bloody hands with a heavy thud. Sigrid stared at the dwarf’s corpse, and trembled. The woman had pulled the dwarf’s tongue out through his throat.

Without missing a beat, Rose turned to the boy who stood pale and white by the wall, watching in terrified silence from the gate mechanism. She strode over to him, and wiped the blood from her hands on his shirt, while he closed his eyes to her in fear.

“And you, my friend, shall come with me.” The woman smiled sweetly at him. “My associates shall be here in a moment, and they will want to know all about who has been coming and going through this gate, do you understand? They want _especially_ to know all about Thorin Oakenshield, and Bard of Laketown, and the whereabouts of all their friends and family. Do you happen to have this information?”

Fergis nodded his head, miserably.

“That’s good,” the woman crooned, “I like people who are useful.” She stroked his face, wiping more of the blood onto his pale cheek. “People who are useful tend to live longer.”

Fergis opened his eyes, and nodded at her desperately.

“That’s settled then, let’s go. Let’s go and see what sort of welcome this place is going to give its new queen under the mountain!” Grabbing his shirt, Rose tore the boy away from the wall, and half marched, half-dragged him across the floor, making for the other side of Sigrid’s corridor.

_She’s going to see me, shit, she’s going to find me._

Without another thought, Sigrid launched herself onto her feet and scuttled back down her corridor, turning the corner to her staircase and waiting to hear for signs of pursuit. But the woman’s light footsteps and Fergis’s stumbling gait died away down the far end of the corridor – and instead Sigrid heard something else.

There was a noise approaching the gate. A loud noise. Like many feet, marching in time. And there was a stench – a terrible, overpoweringly awful smell, like wet dirt and carrion.

_Orcs! – she’s brought an army of orcs with her! They’re coming here!_

She couldn’t quite fully understand what this meant, but she understood it was bad. Extremely bad. Like dragon in the sky kind of bad – and maybe even a bit worse than that.

And she understood that she had to escape. Right now.

Sigrid turned and ran back up the stairs, desperate to find the hidden black stairs that would lead her far away from the open gates and whatever was about to let itself inside...

 

***   ***   ***

 

Another gust of wind blew strong through the wide window of the crumbling tower, and the elf shivered despite feeling her dwarven lover’s arms at her back.

Kili felt her discomfort, and kissed her cold cheek gently. “My love, don’t leave my side again. Stay with me – whatever happens tonight. I don’t want to lose you again.”

She snuck her hand around his waist and sighed. She could hear the hurt and worry in his voice, and it made her feel a hundred times worse than hanging out of the window had done. How could she have trusted Rose? How could she have been so wrong about her? She should have listened to Kili, but instead she’d allowed herself to be used as bait in a trap designed to hurt him and his family.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Kili. Not tonight, not ever. Not with all those orcs on the loose.” She scanned around the upper chamber, as the crazy candlelight flickered round the stone and shadows in the wind. “Has your uncle decided to march back to Erebor? We must go soon – she had hundreds of orcs with her!”

Kili eyed his uncle, wondering what his plans would be. He was conferring furiously with Gandalf and Balin, but Kili wanted no part in it. His place was with Tauriel, whatever happened.

“I don’t know what he plans to do – but we can’t stay here forever.” He studied the weather through the window, trying to assess whether the storm might soon quieten, and frowned. It was just as bad as it had been when they left Erebor. He turned to his lover, his eyes gentle. “Do you think you can walk back, Tauriel? I will stay with you whatever you want to do.”

She gave him a smile. “We elves are made of stronger stuff than perhaps you think, _Prince_ Kili. My wrists both hurt – but as long as I can hold my bow still enough to put an arrow through Rose’s neck, then it is a pain I will relish.”

Kili grinned, and made to kiss her, right in front of all of them – he didn’t care – but then he saw his uncle approaching, and hesitated.

“My lady Tauriel,” the dwarf king stormed over and sat himself low on the floor near to the elf, watching her pointedly. “I need to know why you think Rose is to blame? Tell me everything.”

The elf swallowed, wondering where to begin. “My lord, I left Erebor early this afternoon, not long after your meeting had ended – I wanted to catch up with Rose myself and talk to her. And I did – I found her on a beach by the lake, and she invited me to walk out with her further along the shore...” She glanced up at Kili’s hazel eyes, full of concern for her – and Thorin’s steely blue eyes as they watched her every move with suspicion. She closed her eyes, trying to recall everything.

“I was talking to her – talking to her about you, Kili.” She opened her eyes to smile at her lover briefly, then shut them closer and thought. “I was stood talking to her from a few yards away, and she was smiling at me with this wide grin – I thought it was strange... but then something hit me from behind, on the back of the head, and I must have passed out. And the next thing I can remember, is being tied up near an orc campfire – tied to a tree by the lake!” She rubbed her wrists absentmindedly as she spoke, and Kili reached out to her, taking her hand and squeezing it.

“I managed to work the bounds loose, and stole back my bow, and sword - but the orcs saw me and caught me again before I got far.” She opened her eyes and spoke to them both, determined that they would believe her. “I didn’t see Rose that time, not before they knocked me out again – but when I woke up in the tower – as they were hanging me up – she was here. She was laughing at me. She said if I tried to move, and free myself, the pole would snap and I would fall...” She saw Thorin’s eyes meet hers, checking her sincerity, and she stared back at him defiantly.

“She stood at the window watching me, and told me she was heading to Erebor with her army, to take over the city – and that her victory over your family would all be thanks to me...” Tauriel let her gaze drop, ashamed of her part in the woman’s deceptions. “And then she left with the orcs, riding straight for your kingdom, Thorin. I expect she will be arriving there very soon.”

Thorin and Kili shared a look, and Kili shook his head firmly. “There’s no way Fili will let her through the gates, uncle. He doesn’t trust her. They’ll all be waiting in Dale for us – to ambush us as we try to get back home.”

Tauriel saw the dwarf king consider. “You might be right, Kili – but where was Fili? Where is he now? How do we know he’s in Erebor?” Thorin frowned, as if an unpleasant thought was taking shape in his mind. “What if the orcs have got him too?”

But Kili shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it, uncle... I think, earlier, he was... _talking_ to someone– that’s why we couldn’t find him.” Tauriel saw the colour rush to the dwarf’s face, as if he was feeling guilty for betraying his brother’s secrets. She wondered whether Thorin would even notice.

But the dwarf king was still frowning. “We must all return to Erebor immediately. I know the march back will be long and slow, and in the bad weather, but we can’t allow our enemies a whole night outside our mountain. We did not just evict that cursed worm to have its place taken by another wretched enemy!”

Tauriel looked and saw that Thorin’s face was red with anger, and wondered if he himself was feeling a little foolish for being taken in by Rose too. She couldn’t blame him for it.

Kili met his uncle’s eyes, and nodded. “You’re right, Thorin. We should get everyone together and begin the march back straight away. We can make camp for the night when we see their position, close to Erebor, and engage them in battle come the morning.”

The young dwarf took his elf’s hand tighter in his own, and smiled to her. “At least we shall have the wind at our backs this time.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

In the dark passageway, Sigrid stumbled and fell. The floor was rough and uneven here – the stone floor slabs had long since disappeared – and she had the impression the narrow passage she was in was little used and little known.

The feeling gave her some comfort, despite the stinging in her knees, and she stood up stiffly, continuing her steady progress down the passageway, her blinded eyes trying to seek out some small glow of light up ahead that might signal the presence of other living people.

As she moved forward, her hands felt a sudden void in the passageway to her left, and she realised she was at a junction, with some decision to take. She cocked her head in the darkness, trying to remember the layout of the Erebor halls from what little she’d seen of them. She was sure they lay off to her left somewhere, but who could say which branch of this passage might lead there? It was entirely possible that neither of them would take her close, and she could well spend days wandering around in the darkness, looking for a way back into the light...

_Stop thinking like a child! What would my father do? What would Fili do? They wouldn’t just stumble around in the darkness and hope for the best!_

An idea came to her, and she crouched down on her bleeding knees and lowered her ears to the ground, trying to pick up any sounds that might travel through the cold, hard earth. She didn’t know what to listen for exactly, but surely where there were people, there should be some noise?

And right enough, she could detect something – some deep rumbling in the ground – perhaps reminiscent of voices, and movement.

But she had no idea where it was coming from. It could be from any direction at all, and it would sound the same to her.

_I’ll just keep going straight on, and see if the noise gets louder as I go..._

Feeling better now she had a plan, Sigrid stepped on through the passage, wondering how far she should wait before she tried to listen for the noise again. But what her eyes could now see told her she might have made the right choice after all.

Ahead of her, she could just begin to discern a small scrap of yellow light glimmering distantly far off down the passageway, and she felt herself breaking to a jog, eager to get there and reach the warm glow.

And she could hear voices now too – far off and distant – telling her there were people up ahead, maybe even her people...

And as she finally reached the source of the light, she stopped and stared. There was a window, off to the left of the passage, a single window, overlooking a great hall below where hundreds of people stood murmuring and gesturing. It was her people all right – she had found them – but now she just needed to find a way to get down to them, so she could find her family.

She peered through the little window, seeing nothing but a sheer drop between her corridor and the hall below. It was taller than her house had stood in Laketown, and too far for her to fall.

Cursing her luck, she was about to call down to the people below and ask for their help, when she noticed the hush falling about the room and turned to see Rose striding in through the main doors accompanied by some burly orc guards. The woman in red made straight for a raised podium at the end of the great room, waiting stony-faced for perfect silence.

Sigrid felt a shudder run through her, at the thought of that woman in the same room as her brother and sister, and shrank back into the shadows, taking care to stay hidden from view.

Rose stood commandingly at the head of the room, eyeing up her audience like a snake sizing up its prey.

“My friends, I stand before you as your new queen. My orc army now has complete control of Erebor and the surrounding neighbourhood, and I urge you all to comply fully with the instructions of my guards.” She gestured to the grey muscled brutes at the doorway. “I know many of you will have heard of quite _alarming_ stories about orcs, but I can assure you they are a deeply misunderstood race and will not harm you without good cause. They are here for your protection.”

The woman surveyed the crowd, making sure her words settled on them all. “They are here for your protection against those who would do you harm – and by this I mean Thorin Oakenshield and his company of liars – those dwarves who came here promising you gold and riches and burned your town down and forced you to sleep in the cold ruins of Dale.” She glared around the room, underlining her anger.

“And what would you good people say if I told you that King Thorin was plotting to sell you all into slavery? To let the weak and the old starve to death over winter, and then to sell you and your children to the slaving parties that roam to the east, all for more gold to put in his vaults. For those dwarves love only gold – they have no room in their hearts for mercy, or kindness, or love. But they are arrogant and blind. Thorin himself told me of these plans, and I was so worried that I sent word to some old friends of mine, who promised me they would help me reclaim the mountain and let you people live free and unmolested in Dale.”

Rose smiled sweetly at the crowd, her beautiful face a mask of compassion and sympathy.

In the shadows above, Sigrid shook her head angrily, wishing she could get her hands around the woman’s throat. It was all lies, everything she said – all transparent, self-serving lies. None of the people would believe it, surely.

The woman continued. “But have no fear, my good people, for very soon those wicked dwarves and their followers shall be destroyed once and for all. Thorin and his followers are on their way to the gates to try and challenge me – but they will not get very far. I suggest you people remain inside the hall for your own safety.” She stared around, searching for someone who might defy her, but nobody raised their voice. “I will send you back into Dale when it is safe to do so, and we shall put together our plans for the winter, without those meddling dwarves.”

And with a final smug smile of victory, Rose tossed her head and strode out of the main doorway, her guards following her out and bolting the doors behind them.

Sigrid saw the room of people erupt into confusion, as people shouted for their families and elbowed others for space, and wondered how she would ever find Tilda and Bain now. She couldn’t see them anywhere. The room was a seething mass of people, and it would do her siblings no good whatsoever for her to be stuck down there with them. They had their aunt to look after them, after all.

_I need to find Thorin and Kili – I need to warn them, or find a way to help them, at least._

_I need to get out of Erebor and find them!_

Sighing resignedly, she turned her back on the hall below, and started back up the cold, dark passageway she’d just returned from, making for the gates once more...

 

***   ***   ***

 

Kili stumbled on up the hill, feeling cold and more tired than he ever had in his life before. All he wanted was to curl up asleep beside a fire with Tauriel, and wake up to find the last twenty-four hours had been a feverish nightmare. But the chafing pain from his soaking clothes, and the thick, nervous silence of his companions as they approached the ruins of Dale assured him otherwise.

The storm seemed to finally be subsiding – the rain had slackened to a drizzle – although given how wet everyone was by now it made little difference. All around him, he could see signs of the violent lashing the wind had meted out to Dale whilst they had been away – their path through the main streets was strewn with stone slabs and rubble from the old buildings that had collapsed even further into ruin, while in the avenues, heading out of town, whole mature trees had been toppled and lay fallen on their sides.

 _Where is everyone?_ _Why has nobody come out to speak to us?_

He was leading at the head of their host, along with Thorin and his company. The other hundred of Dáin’s dwarves were following somewhere behind them, at a distance, unable to march as quickly in formation as Kili and his friends. Yet they still should have been visible to anyone manning the Erebor watchtowers.

The silence in the town, save for the dripping of water from the rooftops and the gusting wind, was overwhelming. It was like nobody had ever lived here, and nobody ever would again. Yet there was no sign of their enemies either – all through the night as they had marched back, they’d kept a tense lookout for the orc forces Rose had mustered – but there had been nothing. Not a trace of anything had been seen.

Kili couldn’t explain it, and it made him nervous. He hated the feeling he had in the pit of his stomach now, that Rose was playing two steps ahead of them and had so far anticipated their every move. Except this was no game they were playing – the lives of those he loved were at stake here.

_Where is Fili? Why hasn’t he sent someone down to meet us? And Bard? I’d even welcome the sight of that fool from the Iron Hills right now..._

As the company reached the brow of the hill and saw the looming Erebor gates, all set dark and quiet before them, Kili knew that something was wrong. He could feel it in the air around him, and in the restless, nervous gazes his companions stole between themselves. Beside him, Tauriel grabbed onto his arm and drew him closer.

“Stay beside me, Kili,” she whispered, looking around at the deserted mountainside, “don’t go doing anything _heroic_ without me.”

Kili shook his head, grateful for her presence by his side, and squeezed her hand. “I promise not to leave you, _amralime_. We can be heroic together.”

The dwarf watched as his uncle strode upto the gates, standing tall and proud, and hammered on the metal doors with his sword. The noise might have been heard back at Ravenhill.

“This is the King under the Mountain, and I demand that you open the gates to my kingdom right away!”

The company watched, tense and silent, waiting for some signs of life to stir from within. But the moments continued to pass by and still there was nothing.

And then they heard a creaking door swing on its hinges from somewhere above, and a woman’s laughter – a hard, brittle sound that echoed down to them like broken glass.

_It’s Rose, she’s already inside the gates..._

Kili heard himself gasp, his worst fears confirmed. Who let her in? What had she done?

But his uncle was the first to react.

“Let me into my kingdom now, woman, or I’ll have your head for this!”

On the lookout tower over the gate, Rose stepped forward and looked down on her new audience. She smiled brightly, her hair blowing around her perfect face while the torch in her hand lit up her glittering, dark eyes. They sparkled in the firelight, darkly lit with amusement at the predicament of her former friends, and dark with malice.

“The only way you shall gain entry into _my_ kingdom, Thorin Oakenshield, is as my prisoner. Surrender to me now – you and your nephew – and I shall let the people of Laketown live. Otherwise...” She pouted, theatrically biting at her lower lip.

But Kili saw his uncle was unmoved. “Do not think to threaten me, you wretched woman. I have had enough of your lies to last a lifetime! Let me speak to Fili, and let me hear what he says, and I might consider letting you live at the end of this.”

But Rose shook her head. “I’m afraid, Thorin, that I cannot grant you an audience with your heir right now. You will just have to listen to me.” She raised her arm in some signal, and an orc stepped forward with two children – Kili recognised them as Sigrid’s younger siblings – and the woman pushed them forward for all to see, brandishing a knife in the air behind them.

“You wouldn’t want me to give you a demonstration of what I can do, would you? Because if I don’t have your surrender, Thorin Oakenshield, I will kill every child from Laketown right before your eyes!”

Kili turned to Tauriel, and saw her face was white with disbelief, as she regarded Bard’s young children in horror, reaching at the same time for her bow.

And Rose must have seen the movement too. “I do warm you not to try anything clever, any of you. You might feel better by killing me, but I can tell you now that without my instruction, these orcs will kill everyone inside Erebor. And that can hardly be the outcome you want.”

Kili felt an uncontrollable rage and disgust welling up inside. This woman was evil – and utterly deranged. “What have you done to my brother?” He called up at her, angrily. “Where is he?”

But Rose just smiled at him, and lowered her knife. “You come inside, and you can find out. I promise you that you shall both be unharmed, as long as you cooperate with me.”

Kili shook his head helplessly, and turned to his uncle. “What can we do, Thorin? Everything she says is a lie!”

Thorin glared at the woman, hatred on his face. “I will surrender to you, Rose, if that is your desire. But you shall not have Kili. He stays here!”

But the woman shook her head. “I shall have both of you, so my rule on this kingdom is assured.” She gripped Sigrid’s young sister tightly, the knife just behind the young child’s neck. “There shall be no more discussion over this.”

Thorin looked around at his group, his face dark. “We have no choice but to surrender, Kili. She holds all the cards. I will not have her harm children on my account.”

There was consternation among the rest of the company, and general mutterings of dissent, but nobody could suggest another way.

Tauriel clung to Kili. “But you know you can’t trust her. She wants your kingdom for herself – I don’t want her to hurt you!”

Kili nodded, feeling torn in half. “I know, my love. But we have no choice. “ He took her in his arms, and held her close in the drizzle. “You know that.”

Tauriel found his lips with hers, and kissed him desperately, not wanting to let him stop in case he walked away and left her. He kissed her back, in front of all of his friends, not caring what they thought. He broke away from her lips slowly, and reluctantly.

“I love you, Tauriel. I’ll... see you soon.”

She nodded, feeling a tear trickle down her face. “I will find you, whatever happens, Kili. I love you.”

She saw him swallow heavily, and he turned away from her and strode over to the doorway. His uncle was following him, watched nervously by Bilbo, and the two dwarves waited at the front of the gate.

Thorin banged again at the gate. “Let us in, Rose, you have your way!”

Tauriel saw the woman nod her head sagely from the window, and wave her hand again. The gate mechanism ground into gear, and the gate began to swing open, giving the elf a view of the empty, darkened sentry room.

“That is a wise decision, Thorin. I am glad you have decided to be sensible. I shall meet you at the gates.” The woman disappeared from view, and Tauriel felt herself tremble as she saw Kili and Thorin step forward into the darkened chamber, and out of her sight as the gates closed immediately behind them.

She felt the urge to bang on the gates herself, and scream and shout until they let her in, so she could tell him he’d made a mistake and drag him back outside into safety, but it was too late now. Instead, she felt the tears flowing freely down her face, as her fear and frustration overwhelmed her.

Behind her, she felt a small arm on her back. She turned to see the hobbit, staring after the gate with a fixed look of determination on his face.

“Let’s get away from here and make a plan, Tauriel. We need to get them back somehow, and we need to think how we can do it.”

She stared at him numbly through her tears, and nodded. She needed to think – they all needed to think, and find some way to lure the woman out.

_I will find you, Kili, I promise. I won’t lose you again. Not to her, and not to anyone._

 

***   ***   ***

 

Thorin heard the heavy gate close behind him with a thud, and he scanned the dark room ahead of him, his sword raised in his hand, waiting for any signs of their approaching enemies.

He could see his nephew in the gloom, and called out to him softly. “Stay close to me, Kili.”

Thorin was furious. That woman had played him for an absolute fool, in front of everyone. And it had all been lies and pretence – everything she had said to him. She was no merchant’s daughter, she was no orc prisoner – she seemed, if anything, to be on very friendly terms with those disgusting creatures – and everyone else had seen through her game and suspected the woman’s ill intentions but him.

He would quite happily bury the biggest of his steel axes in the back of her skull, and drop her in a bag into the lake.

But despite the anger he felt, there was something else that stayed his hand for now. He could hear his nephew breathing heavily in the darkness beside him, waiting for the attack, and he knew he must do anything he could to protect Kili from that woman. He loved his nephews – both of them – he loved them like the sons he’d never have – and he would never let any harm come to either one of them. He had no idea where Fili was, but he would find out, and the woman could take what she wanted – she could have all the gold in their vaults – so long as his nephews remained unharmed.

He heard her sashaying down the stairs off to the side before he could see her, the orange glow of her torch casting her long shadow over them as she glided across the room towards them, flanked by two large orcs who each carried one of Bard’s children. The children’s faces were frozen in fear, and Thorin felt his blood boiling with rage.

“Drop your weapons, now. Both of you.” She stared at them expectantly, waiting for them to comply.

With a scowl, Thorin dropped his sword on the ground in front of him, and nodded to Kili to do the same.

“And everything else. Take all your clothes off.” She smiled nastily at Thorin. “You may keep your breeches if you wish.”

The woman took a step closer, watching them as they stiffly undressed and piled their clothes up on top of their weapons.

“There, that’s better. Now we can have a civil conversation without anyone getting hurt.” She eyed Kili up and down, comparing his body against his uncle’s. “Yes, that’s much better. But there’s just one more thing.” She clicked her fingers, and another pair of orcs came bursting forth from the shadowy corridors at the back of the sentry room. They carried chains, and Thorin glared back at the woman, raising his eyebrows.

“Is that really necessary, _my lady_?”

“You must be restrained, obviously. For my own personal safety, Thorin. Consider it a lady’s indulgence.” And Rose laughed, watching in glee as her orcs chained the dwarf king’s arms behind his back, pulling his head up roughly as they fitted an iron collar around his neck and shackled his ankles.

It took all of Thorin’s self control not to head-butt the orc and run straight at the woman, and he closed his eyes in disgust at this latest outrage.

“You have us right where you wanted us, my lady. So, I will ask you again. Where is Fili? Let me speak to him now!”

The woman regarded him curiously, tilting her head to the side. “I’m afraid your nephew and heir is dead, Thorin Oakenshield. You probably won’t believe me when I say I had nothing to do with it, but it’s true.”

Thorin felt panic in his chest, and turned to Kili, seeing the same confusion on the young dwarf’s face.

“Don’t believe anything she says, uncle, it’s all lies!” Kili stared angrily at the woman, his face reddening. “Tell me where my brother is!”

But Rose nodded slowly. “I told you, Kili. He’s dead. He was found with Bard of Laketown, both of them drowned, on the beach by several of my orcs earlier this evening.” She smiled faintly. “Bard’s daughter tells me they went fishing in the storm, although personally I find that hard to believe.”

Thorin saw Kili trembling in his chains, and felt a blank sense of incomprehension. Was she telling the truth or was this just another one of her lies?

“You’re lying! I don’t believe you. Not until I see him for myself.” Kili’s voice broke off quickly, and he shook his head frantically.

The woman crept closer. “I’m afraid, when my orcs found them, they might have been rather _hungry_.” She let the word drop into the room, with a shrug, shaking her head scoldingly. “So there might not be all that much of your brother left to see... But I can show you the remains, if you really want?”

Thorin felt sick to his stomach. What the woman was saying couldn’t be true. She was just trying to hurt them, trying to break them down, all for her sick power games. He wanted to reach out to Kili, and tell him that his brother was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Dread lurked just below his rational mind, choking the sure words in his throat.

Kili lowered his head, refusing to look at the woman anymore. She saw she had got to him, and pressed her advantage, sidling up closer to the young dwarf, reaching for him with her small, thin hands...

“You know, Kili, you really are a beautiful creature. It’s a shame you only have eyes for that ginger elf – she’s not as lovely as you are. Not by a long way. She doesn’t deserve someone like you.” She reached out and slid her hands across Kili’s chest, laughing as he tensed in revulsion.

“Get your hands off me, you witch. I’m not interested. I could see through you from the start – you’re nothing but a cheap, gold-filching whore, and though you might have a pretty face, you’re the ugliest woman I’ve ever known!”

Rose removed her hand from him, glaring at him coolly. “You might come to regret your words, Kili, sometime soon... you might realise there are worse people out there than I am.” She smiled again, and Thorin felt his stomach twist in a knot of fear. Was she threatening his nephew? What did she mean?

Trying to bring her malicious attention back to himself, Thorin turned his head her way and shouted.

“Tell me again about your merchant father Rose, and how your poor orcs murdered him. Or was that another one of your lies?”

Rose turned back to him, and prowled over to his side slowly. “Did I really say it was the orcs who murdered my father?” She rolled her eyes. “Silly me. Although the rest of my story _is_ true – we did happen to fall on their camp, just as they were leaving. And I suppose, I had no choice but to sink that rusty old sword we carried in the back of our wagon straight through my father’s heart.” She shrugged her shoulders, and widened her eyes. “I had to get their attention somehow!”

Thorin looked at this woman, and realised she was utterly crazy. There was not a person alive she wouldn’t hurt if it furthered her own interests. How could he ever have been taken in by her? How could he ever have found her attractive? How did he ever think she was a better match for himself than Bilbo?

He shook his head, appalled. “You mean you killed your own father?”

Rose strode away from them both, circling the room. “He was a dead man anyway. I just did what I could to impress those who needed a demonstration of my _capabilities_.” She smiled to herself darkly. “For it turns out there are those who are very interested in _you_ , Thorin Oakenshield, and your family.” She stopped walking and turned to him, and Thorin felt a chill creeping through his bones. “The line of Durin, isn’t that what it’s called?”

Thorin turned to Kili, wondering how he could free his nephew before it was too late. The woman saw his sudden concern, and nodded.

“That’s right. I think it’s time I introduced you to my chief _associate_ , Thorin Oakenshield. I think you already know of whom I speak – although I think your nephew hasn’t had the pleasure yet.” She smiled cruelly at Kili. “You’ll soon realise that your brother was the lucky one, believe me.”

Thorin felt fear blossom like a wound across his chest, and time slowed down until the world felt thick and still all around him. Then from the back of the chamber he heard heavy footsteps – heavy footsteps coming closer, round the corner, until he came face to face with the worst of his nightmares, made solid right before his eyes...

Rose smiled as the huge, pale orc strode into the room, his evil looking face leering down at the two dwarves in hatred.

“May I introduce to you, Thorin and Kili, my good friend – Azog the Defiler.”

The pale orc strode right up to Thorin’s nephew, inhaling the air around him in big huffing breaths, and Thorin saw his nephew flinch in fear as the orc rolled out a large grey tongue and licked at his cheek.

“Young and fresh.” He grunted. “Just like your brother. Maybe you will taste as good as him too.”

Thorin gave a cry of rage, and shook with all his might at the chains on his back, trying to free his hands so he could pull the monster away from his youngest nephew.

“Get away from him! You have no quarrel with him! It’s me you want, and you can have me. Do what you want to me, Azog, just let him go!”

But the pale orc laughed, and prowled slowly to where Thorin stood, shaking in fear and rage, and stared at him grimly.

“Thorin Oakenshield.” His voice was a rasp, like dry leaves scuttling across a grave. “I have you at last. You and your filthy family are mine.”

He raise his huge, muscular hands, and the two burly orcs appeared by his side. They looked like toy dolls in comparison to the great, white monster.

“Take them away to the cells. Keep them together. It’s more fun that way.” He smiled cruelly at Thorin, and snarled. “Enjoy your last night in the world of the living, Oakenshield. Tomorrow I will send you both into a whole new world of pain.”

And Thorin heard himself shouting out, begging them to spare Kili, offering them anything, but he was bundled away by the big grey orcs, bundled away down the stairs, with Kili close behind him, still shouting himself hoarse, but never receiving a single reply from the huge pale orc that followed close behind, watching him at a distance...

 

***   ***   ***

 

Sigrid clutched at her chest, feeling her heart breaking. She could feel hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t want to let them fall, not yet – if she started crying now, she would never stop – and then she could never get justice for Fili or her father, and they would have died in vain...

She’d heard the whole of Rose and Thorin’s exchange, from the dark corridor above the sentry room. It had been dangerous getting so close to those stinking, foul orcs, but when she’d heard Thorin and Kili’s voices she’d had to come and listen in, in case she could help them escape somehow... but all she’d heard had filled her with horror and grief.

_I will free them. I don’t care if I get caught anymore. I won’t let Fili’s brother and uncle die by that woman’s hand, I swear it!_

Trying to catch her breath, Sigrid brushed the threatening tears away from her eyes and started making her way back down the stairs. There must be a corridor that led to the dungeons somewhere, and she would find it, even if it was the last thing she ever did.


	10. Safety lies in Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel and Bilbo make a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading this far! :) I managed to get this chapter written quite quickly, and since I'm going to be pretty busy over the next few days I'm just sticking it up now so I can keep on writing when I get the chance. I'll have the next chapter up next week sometime, I reckon.

Tauriel woke with a start, scraping the back of her head on the stone wall behind her. There was a stiffness in her neck that she’d never felt before, and a giddy sense of anxiety in her chest, even before she’d opened her eyes to the dull, grey morning sky.

And she was cold. The cold had seeped into her bones through her wet clothes – they’d been too tired to set a fire last night, and too worried about attracting unwanted attention. The little party of Thorin’s companions had settled into the upstairs floor of one of the larger, derelict houses within Dale, and roosted where they could like birds. Dáin’s dwarves had retreated into the trees around the lake, unwilling to stay so close to the Lonely Mountain now they knew what was dwelling inside.

_Kili...where’s Kili?_

The elf’s eyes flew open, peering around the gloomy room in the damp twilight, checking to make sure he hadn’t somehow returned to her in the night.

She could see the sleeping figures of his dwarven friends, hunched uncomfortably in crevices by the bare stonework, or curled up on the bare floor beside one another. And then she saw the hobbit, staring out of the window nearby, the breeze playing with his brown curls while he surveyed the silent town.

He must have heard her stir, for he turned away from the empty window and faced her. “Did you sleep well, Tauriel?” His voice was soft and low.

The elf sat up, trying to stretch her neck and gain more feeling in her cold fingers.

“I slept, a little bit at least.” She smiled sadly at the hobbit. “That’s more than I was expecting.”

Bilbo nodded. “Me too. But I woke at first light.” He looked around the room. “Do you think we should wake the others?”

Tauriel shook her head, eyeing her sleeping companions. “Let them sleep a bit longer. They were up all night, and who knows what today will bring.”

Bilbo turned back to his desolate view of Dale, staring solemnly out at the view. “There’s a way inside, Tauriel. I know how we can get into Erebor.”

She sat up fully, alert at once. “What way? Tell me.”

But the hobbit continued staring out. “There’s a secret door on the other side of the mountain. It’s how we got inside in the first place.” He gestured behind him, to the sleeping dwarves in the room. “It was locked when we got there, but we opened it. I don’t know how we will get it to open again. But there must be a way.”

Tauriel could see the look of purpose on the hobbit’s tired face, and it warmed her wounded heart. She had at least one ally here. She rose to her feet, feeling unsteady as her numbed toes took her weight shakily, and staggered over to where he stood by his window perch.

She linked her arm in his, and stared out of his window, taking in the fresh morning air. The winding, desecrated streets in the foreground lay grey and empty under the bruised blue sky, hunched and twisting upwards to the jutting peak of the Lonely Mountain itself. It’s head was lost in the trailing grey clouds, hidden from her sight.

The storm had passed overnight at last then. And all that lingered behind was the biting cold air with its trace of dampness on her face.

“We will find a way, Bilbo. We will get them back.”

He stared up at her and nodded softly. “I know. We have to.”

Tauriel heard a shuffling noise behind her and turned. The older dwarf, the one they called Balin, with the long white beard, was approaching the pair of them gently.

“You two should be sleeping while you can.” He padded upto them carefully. “What are you conspiring about? Did you hear something in the night?”

Tauriel shifted away from the hobbit, letting the old dwarf take a space between them by the window. “I’m afraid there is no news, Balin. Nothing stirs yet within the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo and I were just discussing a secret way into Erebor. He tells me your company unlocked a hidden door three days ago when you re-entered the mountain?”

Balin nodded at her, and raised an eyebrow. “I know what you’re thinking there, lass. And it might be a good idea... There’s just one problem.”

Bilbo shook his head, confused. “And what’s that?”

The dwarf sighed. “We didn’t lock the door – not with the same spell as before – so in theory it _should_ be open... but I fear it will not open to just anybody.”

The old dwarf himself stared out of the window, studying the rickety old town for signs of life. “The door was built by Thorin’s ancestors, and I’m afraid it will take a direct descendant of those ancestors to open it.” He saw his two companions staring at him quizzically. “You can’t have a door lying open for just anyone to come through – it was meant as a secret entrance, for the kings of the mountain and their families to come and go unseen.”

Tauriel followed the old dwarf’s line of sight. “Then we need Fili. Is that what you’re saying?”

Balin nodded miserably. “But we don’t know where he is, lass. There’s a good chance _she’s_ got him too.” He stared at the looming mountain with open hatred, and Tauriel understood the depths of his despair.

She tried to reassure him. “I don’t know where he is, Balin, but Kili knew. He was keeping it secret, but he knew his brother was safe and well – he said as much to Thorin. We just need to find Fili and get inside...” She saw the old dwarf’s pale blue eyes turn to her with hope, and felt herself emboldened.

“We should eat something. Get our strength up.” The hobbit murmured, almost to himself, as he stood staring out the window. Tauriel and Balin shared a glance, and waited for him to elaborate.

Bilbo finally tore his eyes away from the mountain and fixed them with a frail smile.

“There must be something to eat around here. I’m going to go and have a look, and make us some breakfast... then we can all get started on finding Fili.”

Tauriel smiled and nodded. At least they had a plan.

She just hoped it would be enough.

 

***   ***   ***

 

There was blackness all around him. Comfortable, painless, and numbing. He wanted to stay there, in peace, but all of a sudden the soothing darkness collapsed into a deep well of pain in his chest, firing a choking, burning sensation in his throat.

Fighting for breath, Fili twisted onto his side, coughing up water from his lungs onto the forest floor.

His shoulder was aching under his body weight, and for a second he struggled to remember why his arms wouldn’t work. And then it came to him – his hands were bound, and someone had left him lying under the trees in the gloomy woods, soaking wet and all alone, with nothing but his ragged breathing for company.

Another choking wave coursed through his chest, and Fili gasped for air – but only managed to inhale dirt from the dank, mossy ground on which he lay. He felt the strength go out of him, and closed his eyes, willing the blackness to return to him and take the burning pain in his chest away.

“Breathe slowly and stop fighting it, _dwarf_. The water in your lungs must be let out.”

Fili’s eyes shot open at the voice behind him. He had thought he was completely alone.

He heard more rustling behind him, and then there were strong, cold hands gripping his shoulders and lifting him up – lifting him up and holding him upright, so he could breathe easier and deeper. The hands didn’t relax their grip on his shoulders, and Fili couldn’t see who his captor was, but they held him tightly until the shuddering coughs had wracked his body dry, and his breathing came more regular.

“That’s better. And now you can breath, you will speak to me. I want to know who you are, and what you were doing when you washed up on this shoreline. So _speak,_ dwarf.”

Fili coughed once more, and tried to remember where it was he’d first heard that voice... but he could barely remember anything except the storm; and falling into the water... and Bard – being on the sinking ship with the boatman from Laketown – all for the sake of someone whom he’d left behind on her own in Dale...

“Where’s Bard? My friend. He was on the boat with me. Where is he?”

The hands didn’t move an inch. “Your friend is quite safe. He was still conscious when we dragged him from the water, and is being looked after by my companions now.” The hands tightened on Fili’s shoulders. “Tell me who you are, _dwarf_.”

Fili considered. He still had no idea who he was speaking to, but he was too exhausted to come up with a lie.

“I am Fili, son of Dis. The nephew and heir of the King under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield. And who are you?”

He heard a grunt behind him, and one of the cold hands left his shoulder and grabbed his face, pulling it sideways to allow his captor a better look at his dwarven features.

“So your friend was telling the truth after all.” The hand returned to Fili’s shoulder, forcing his head forwards again. “Now tell me why you were on a boat, on a stormy night, with a man who calls himself the king of Laketown?”

Fili sighed. “Bard and I were making for Mirkwood to see King Thranduil. We wanted to discuss something with the elven king. And we didn’t want my uncle to know about it.”

The cold hands shook him slightly, indicating he should continue.

“And what was this matter you wished to discuss? Answer me, or I will have you thrown back into the lake.”

Fili felt a flush of anger. Who was this, to bind his hands and threaten him?

“I’m afraid the matter is for King Thranduil alone. We wished to seek an alliance with the king, but the specifics are for his ears only. Since you won’t tell me who you are, I assume you are no friend of mine.”

There was silence from behind him, and then the hands were withdrawn from his shoulders, and Fili heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed behind him. A sharp prick of fear stabbed at his chest.

But then he felt his arms being lifted high, and the bounds were cut loose. The cold hands hauled him roughly to his feet, and spun him round.

Fili found himself looking into the pale, blue eyes of a Mirkwood elf, towering haughtily over him and looking disdainfully down upon him. He recognised the elf’s refined, handsome features and sneering upper lip at once.

The elf gave him a mock bow. “I am Legolas, son of King Thranduil of the Mirkwood realm.” He eyed the dwarf scornfully. “I think we have already met, Prince Fili, but perhaps you didn’t have so much to thank me for last time.”

Fili stared back at the elf, annoyed he hadn’t realised sooner. Of all the people to be rescued by, it had to be him. It would have been more of a mercy to drown in the lake, and be spared the self-righteous elven lectures.

“I’m sorry, Legolas – I didn’t recognise you there without your jail keys. Thank you for saving my life, I am truly grateful... and slightly confused. Why _did_ you save me?”

The elf smirked. “Because your friend asked me to, dwarf. I thought you were dead when we pulled you ashore, and a lost cause. Your friend had to breath air into your lungs for half an hour before you came back to us.”

Legolas gestured behind him, towards the trees, and Fili noticed there was a small fire going. Several tall, blond elves were stood sternly around a fire, while Bard was there too, knocking back a mug full of steaming liquid by the fire. He saw the bedraggled, blond dwarf looking his way, and raised his cup in salute with a smile. Fili waved back, feeling a rush of gratitude to the man who’d saved his life.

He turned back to face the elf, conscious of his wet clothes and cold skin. “Am I free to go now, Legolas? Or are you going to take me back to your father’s jail again?”

The elf motioned to the fire. “Warm yourself, dwarf. We have no desire to suffer your company all the way back to Mirkwood, so consider yourself lucky. We have business to attend to around here.”

Fili raised an eyebrow and started towards the fire, eager to dry himself. “And what business do you have so close to my uncle’s kingdom?”

“These are _our_ woods, dwarf. This is the southern extent of our range. My guards were sent down here by my father to keep an eye on all the trouble that your uncle has caused. We have heard disturbing rumours, and have seen signs that a large orc army has marched on your mountain.”

The dwarf felt his face fall, and stopped in his tracks. “What? What signs?”

But the elf nodded soberly, the smug mask gone from his delicate face. “We saw an army riding out to meet the lights on the far side of the lake, but we have seen _two_ armies come back.” He turned to Fili. “Was one of them your uncle’s? I assume this has something to do with why you wish to see my father in such a hurry?”

Fili shook his head, thinking immediately of Sigrid ,and how he’d left her all alone in Dale.

“No, not directly it doesn’t.” He reached the fire, where Bard was waiting for him, and the two of them exchanged a worried glance. “Have you heard the news, Bard? We have to go back!”

The dark-haired boatman nodded. “Now you’re awake, I hope you’re ready for a fight.”

The dwarf cast his eyes across the lake, looking to the Lonely Mountain, shrouded in grey clouds. He hoped she was safe – he hoped they were all safe. He felt a desperation to be back there at once – he had to find out what was going on and help the people he loved.

“Tell me about this army marching on Erebor, Legolas – what do you know?”

The elf shook his head. “All I know is that it will be a bloodbath for any of the Laketown people unlucky enough to be caught up in your uncle’s kingdom. And that is not something that _my_ father will stand for.”

“So does that mean you will come back with us, and fight with us?”

The cocky smile returned to the elf prince’s face, and he shared a glance with the dark haired man by the dwarf’s side.

“I will return with the king of Laketown, and fight for _his_ people with my Mirkwood guards. But understand, dwarf – it is not for the sake of you or your troublesome family that we do this. As far as my king is concerned, your family should have burned with the dragon you so foolishly woke.”

Fili stared at him coldly. “And what about the lady Tauriel, Legolas. She has a new home now in Erebor and is happy. Would you have her burn with us?”

The elf glared angrily back. “Do not speak of my friend as if you know her. I do not know what happiness she thinks she will find with your brother, but I know that it will be short-lived. Rather like your family’s future.”

Fili felt the blood rushing to his head in anger, but Bard stepped in before he could react, clamping an arm around the dwarf’s shoulders and smiling indulgently at Legolas.

“Can you two please save all this until after we’ve fought the orcs? You’re like children, both of you. We need to get ready to leave – now!”

Legolas jutted his jaw out wide and pouted. “As you so please. It’s the dwarf we’ve been waiting all night for.” And he strutted away, calling out in elvish to his troop of guards.

Fili shook his head, thinking of Sigrid. “Thank you, Bard. And I’m sorry – I know we don’t have time to argue. It’s just, that elf... I don’t like him.”

Bard chuckled. “I think you’re going to like the journey back to Erebor even less.”

The dwarf looked alarmed. “What’s wrong now?”

Bard pointed down to the lake, where an elvish boat bobbed up and down in the choppy waves. “We’re going by water again. I hope your sickness has died down.”

Fili winced inwardly. He’d had enough of that lake to last a lifetime, almost literally. He just hoped his bad luck was behind him now. He didn’t want any more nasty surprises, for him or any of his friends.

 

***   ***   ***

 

Kili opened his eyes, his heart pounding. Someone was rattling the chains on the door to their cell. The metallic clinking set his nerves on edge, and he tried to turn his head towards the door to get a better look at whatever was coming in.

The metal collar restraining him to the wall would not permit such liberties however, and Kili abandoned his attempts. He realised he didn’t want to know anymore anyway. His whole body was stiff and aching after his night spent chained to the wall, unable to move, but he had no illusions that things could get a lot worse, for him and his uncle.

He turned his head towards Thorin, chained to the other side of the cell, and saw he was awake now too. His uncle saw the movement, and called to him urgently in Khuzdul.

“Don’t say anything against them, Kili. Don’t put yourself in harm’s way – do you understand? Give them whatever they want – that’s an order!”

The door burst open, and two ugly, grey orcs hunched down and twisted their way through the door. The Erebor cell was small, meant for convicted dwarf prisoners awaiting sentencing, but the smaller orcs could still make their way in and out.

The hateful creatures were each carrying a pail of water, and Kili gave a cry of shock as an orc tipped one right over his head, drenching his bare skin with the freezing liquid.

The beast watched his body stiffen and strain against his chains, leering in amusement.

“It’s time for you both to get going. My master has something in store for you.”

Kili locked eyes with his uncle, his panic rising, but the orc closed in on him and released the manacles from his wrists, cuffing them tightly in front of him. The latches attaching his collar to the wall were unclipped, and the dwarf felt movement return to his neck again. His head felt strangely lightheaded.

“Get up, and stand still.”

He felt a tug at his dark hair, forcing him to his feet, and a chain was attached to the collar that he wore.

“Get going, and stay in front of me.” Kili was pushed towards the door, and he staggered forwards, nearly losing his balance.

“Thorin?” He called for his uncle, needing to hear his voice, worried they would be split up and might never meet again...

“I’m right behind you, Kili. Do as you’re told.”

Kili swallowed thickly and allowed himself to be prodded out of the cell, and down the darkened corridor. The floor was rough and uneven, and his captor kept changing pace, alternately yanking on his collar or letting him stumble forward.

“That’s far enough. In this door here – the one on the left. Push it open.”

Kili pushed with his chained hands against the solid oak door, afraid of what he was going to find waiting inside.

But there was nothing there – just a wooden chest and a few sputtering candles, throwing a dingy light around the bare stone walls.

He felt a strong arm push him from behind to the floor, and then he was dragged along by his chain. Feeling his trousers tearing over his knees, Kili clawed at the collar all the way, fighting against the metal for breath.

His captor hauled him up without a word against the wall, and he heard the click of latches locking across his collar once more, holding him tightly in place.

He watched to see his uncle being hauled into the room after him – their eyes met hurriedly and Kili could see both anger and fear on his uncle’s face.

“Thorin, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, Kili.”

The pair of orcs now worked together, and wound the chain his uncle wore around a large ring attached to the wall, fixing him there with his back exposed.

Kili felt the breath freeze in his throat as one of the orcs bent down and retrieved something from the wooden chest. It looked like a type of whip, but there were at least seven strips of leather hanging from the handle, all decorated with metallic studs and hooks. He shuddered, squirming against his collar.

“You will be first, Oakenshield. I want your nephew to understand what he’s getting.” The larger of the two orcs – the one that had manhandled his uncle down the hall – turned and gave Kili a wink. “Those young ones always think they’re invincible. Always think they’re... _unbreakable_.”

He raised the flail, about to strike, and Kili felt his horror rise to the surface.

“No!” He cried. “Leave him alone!”

The second orc sidled upto him, and nodded towards his uncle. “We’re not going to hurt him too much, little dwarf. Too many blows and he’ll pass out, and where’s the sport in that?”

The larger orc let fly with the whip against his uncle’s back, and Kili heard his uncle grunt as his skin was broken by the vicious teeth on the leather straps.

The smaller orc smiled at Kili, seeing the colour drain from his face, and whispered to him.

“After you’ve both had a turn of this, we’re under instructions to have you salted and oiled. Azog wants you roasting on a spit before noontime, so he can enjoy a taste of your _company_ over dinner with some fine elvish wine.”

The larger orc loosed his whip on Thorin’s back a second time, and Kili heard his uncle groan.

“You’re both going to be carved up for the feast tonight.”

The whip was cracked a third time, and his uncle moaned as it tore into his flesh.

“I never did get a taste of your brother, little dwarf. Maybe I’ll get a piece of _you_ instead.”

There was another smack of the whip’s teeth across his uncle’s back, and Kili felt a fine spray of blood coat his face as his uncle cried out in pain.

“Stop it, stop it!” Kili cried. “He hasn’t done anything to you! Why are you doing this?” He felt a wetness on his cheeks, and realised it was tears.

The smaller orc looked upon him sympathetically, and nodded.

“Would you like a turn now, is that it?” He turned to his companion. “Change them around, this one’s starting to blubber.”

Kili stared his uncle’s wounded back, gouged all over with rows of bloody streaks threading up his shoulders, and felt sickness rise in his stomach.

“Thorin!”

“It’s okay, Kili.” His uncle’s voice was laboured. “It’s not that bad.”

The smaller of the two orcs unlocked Kili’s collar again, and led him towards another ring on the wall opposite his uncle, readying his back for their attentions.

Kili felt himself tremble in anticipation, almost willing the whip to strike and be done with it.

He was bracing himself for the first blow, when the door was thrown open, and something big and heavy shuffled inside.

“There’s been a change of plan. These two are to go back to their cell – the boss doesn’t want them damaged.”

Kili heard a growl of disapproval behind his back.

“Doesn’t want them _damaged_? What’s the point of keeping them prisoner then? We may as well just kill them now!”

“No, he wants them killing later. Says he wants a more _permanent_ way to remember them, whatever that means.”

Kili felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, wondering what Azog and that devil-woman had devised. The orcs untied him from the wall without another word, and started to drag his uncle back down the corridor towards their cell.

But as Kili was spun around and away from his un-fated flogging, he saw the cruel smile of the third orc, blocking his way in the doorway.

“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes now, dwarf,” the grey beast trilled. “By the time death comes for you, it will be a _mercy_...”

Kili stared into the creature’s fiendish, black eyes and saw nothing but cruelty and malice. He tried to think of a something comforting to steady himself – his uncle, his brother, Tauriel – but there was pain attached to every one of them now, and he felt misery and despair sinking into his heart.

And the creature saw the dwarf’s lip begin to tremble, and laughed in delight.

 

***   ***   ***

 

“Did you find anything, Bilbo?”

The elf was calling to him before he’d even left the last house, evidently finishing her own swoop of the streets before him.

“No, there’s no sign of him in there.”

The pair of them had decided to go house to house, or rather, ruin-to-ruin, looking for any trace of Fili – or of anyone else that wasn’t one of Rose’s grey minions. They’d searched most of the upper part of town quickly, but were trying to be more methodical on its lower quarters by the lake. It seemed somehow a more likely place to hide from Thorin’s wrathful gaze.

“We’ve still got so much left to search, Bilbo! Maybe we should go back and see if the others are awake?”

He could hear the anxiety in Tauriel’s voice, and he felt it himself too. They couldn’t spend long on their search – he didn’t know what that woman was planning to do to Thorin and Kili, but he knew she would want them dead sooner or later. If they didn’t find Fili soon, then they’d just have to accept that Rose had gotten to him first.

The hobbit looked up at the sky, blanketed with thick, featureless cloud. The sun was well and truly risen now – casting a diffuse white light on the empty streets from behind its blank curtain. It was time for the rest of them to be up, if they weren’t already.

“Let’s go back and fetch them – we can’t do this on our own!”

They set back towards the hill, readying themselves for the climb up the main streets – when Bilbo heard a distant, heavy scraping noise echoing down the silent town.

“What was that?” He turned to face the elf, his eyes wide.

She was instantly on edge too, reaching for her bow. “It sounded like the Erebor gate.”

They stood still for a moment, wondering what to do, listening out for signs of trouble. And then slowly, they heard the sound of movement. It was distant, coming from all the way on top of the hill, but unmistakeable.

The elf turned to him, alarmed. “Something’s marching out of Erebor. Let’s get back to the others, quickly!”

But Bilbo grabbed her sleeve as she made to run.

“Tauriel, wait! Let’s see what they’re doing first. We don’t want to go back to that ruined house and be trapped there all morning if the orc army stations itself outside!” She stopped and turned, staring at him sideways. “Let’s go and find Dwalin, with the rest of the host. If the orcs are coming out, maybe it’s time to fight them after all!”

The elf eyed the path up the hill, and he could tell what she wanted. She wanted to get as close as she could to that open gate, and wait for an unguarded moment to slip inside –but it was madness. She would never make it.

They had to be smarter than that.

He tugged at her sleeve, urging her. “Come on, we can’t stay here!”

She took one last desperate look up the hill, and then shook her head and followed the hobbit. They made for the woods on the edge of town by the lake, hoping Dwalin and his dwarves hadn’t retreated too deeply into the forest.

The woods around this part of town were thick, and dark, and the silence hung somehow thicker here than it had on the barren streets. The air was dank, and cold, and heavy.

Bilbo spun on his heels, wondering how on earth he’d keep his bearings in a place like this. A few steps further in, and they wouldn’t even be able to see the lake anymore.

He stared plaintively at his companion. “How do you think we’ll find them? In here?” He hurried to keep pace, struggling to keep up with the elf’s long strides over the damp, mossy earth. “Should we shout for them?”

Tauriel stopped suddenly, eying a patch of pine trees off to her left. She raised a hand at him, and the hobbit stopped to listen. He held his breath obediently and listened, but the only sound that came to him was the dull hammering of his own heart.

“What is it?” He whispered, reaching towards his belt, checking his sword was still in place.

“Something moved over there.” She pointed to her left, and unhooked her bow from her shoulder in a single, fluid motion.

The hobbit stared at the dark, shadowy trees. “Was it our dwarves?”

But the elf shook her head with a grimace. “Much too stealthy for dwarves, I’m afraid.”

She studied the trees in front of her, seeing patterns in their shapes that the hobbit could only guess at, while Bilbo looked around anxiously. He wished he’d never suggested they come this way.

And then suddenly, there was a blur of movement from the corner of his eye, and the hobbit swung round – just in time to see the pine tree off to his left struck through with an arrow. It landed cleanly in the wood, at the level of his head, and the hobbit gasped in surprise.

“Oh, my... Tauriel? What’s happening?”

He trained his hazel eyes onto the elf, seeing her stare at the tree in astonishment, but she did not string her bow.

And then from the far left, there came a low-pitched, wavering bird call.

Bilbo turned slowly to face the trees. Something was coming towards them, he was sure of it. There was a movement from far beyond the pines...

By his side, he saw Tauriel raise her hand to her mouth and smile, and he stared at her in confusion.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

But as he turned back to the pine trees, he suddenly saw they were not alone. Dozens of fair-haired, green-clad elves appeared out of the shadows under the trees – they’d been so close to him and he’d never even seen them. They were all around them, surrounding them, and staring at them with their pale, fine faces...

And then, further back, he saw another blond – shorter and stockier than the others – running towards them both alongside a handsome, dark-haired man...

“Fili! You’re alive!” Bilbo found himself grinning for the first time in a long while. It made his face hurt, but he kept doing it anyway.

The dwarf caught up with them, running straight to Bilbo and giving him a tight hug. “We heard about the orcs! Thank Mahal you’re safe! Where are the others? Where is Sigrid?”

Bilbo hugged the dwarf back, suddenly not wanting to have to let him go and explain to him. He saw the dark-haired king of Laketown staring at him in earnest too.

“What has happened to my people, Bilbo? Where are my children?”

The hobbit lowered his eyes, and released the dwarf from his embrace.

“I’m afraid I don’t know the whereabouts of your family, Bard – I expect they are inside Erebor with the rest of your people – and with Thorin and Kili...” He looked from Bard’s deep blue eyes to Fili’s blue-grey ones, but neither of them seemed alarmed by the news.

The hobbit sighed. “Rose is in there with them – her, and her orc army. They took the city last night, and now they’re holding everyone hostage. She forced Thorin and Kili to surrender to her by threatening to kill people... and now I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He saw their faces fall, and felt his heart plummet too. “I’m sorry I have no better news for you.”

Fili turned to Bard, his face turning stony. “I will tell you right now what is going to happen, my friends – we are going to rid our home of all of those creatures, and make that woman pay.” He fixed Bilbo with a cold stare. “Tell me everything – Bard and I need all the details. We need to find a way inside Erebor, or get her to come out – and we need to do it soon!”

Bilbo nodded, feeling like he had a purpose again.

“And I will help you in this task.” The hobbit turned to see a tall, strapping elf striding towards them from the pines. He marched straight up to Tauriel, and whispered under his breath in melodic elvish.

The words meant little to the hobbit, but straight away, the colour rose in the elf’s cheeks, and she smiled at him, nodding. She turned to Bilbo and the rest of her friends in the woods, and explained.

“Legolas has brought his Mirkwood guardians with him and will help us. Maybe it’s time to find Dwalin and get our forces combined.” She turned back to face the way they’d come, just a few minutes ago, fleeing from Dale.

“If it’s a fight they want, then we will give it to them.”


	11. The Fire in the Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel, Fili and Bilbo go looking for the doorway, and Kili and Thorin reach an agreement.

The red-haired elf gazed into the grey water, trying to avoid the eyes of the pale-faced stranger she could see staring back. The eyes and cheeks were hollow and dark, disappearing into the murky depths of the lake, and the mouth was stretched and troubled. If it hadn’t been for the rusty halo around the face, she wouldn’t have recognised herself.

_Is this what Vairë warned me about? Is this mortality?_ She looked down at her slender, pale hand and saw how it shook slightly, its outline lost against the ripples on the surface. _Or have all these troubles just caught up with me?_

She sighed heavily, and turned her back on the cold water, returning her view to the Lonely Mountain. There was a restless dread in the pit of her stomach, and the only way to release herself from its clutches was to stay busy, working towards her goals steadily and carefully, lest she catch herself thinking too hard about Kili and where he might be right now.

_I need to go and find the others, they must have made their decision by now..._

She made for the small group of figures at the edge of the woods, watching them point and gesture to each other as if in disagreement. Legolas and Bard were conferring with Fili and Dwalin about their battle strategy, and Tauriel had decided to let them have their arguments and make their decisions without her aid. She wanted to know their plan – and she would probably follow it too – but she cared little for the discussion. Bilbo had chosen to sit on a rock nearby, seemingly listening to their debate with interest, but she herself was too restless for talk. The time for words was over.

And still they didn’t notice her approach, so engrossed were they in their arguing.

“We need to attack now, we might not get another chance!” Bard seemed to be erring to her side of the fence, jabbing at the air in agitation, as if he was willing to face down an entire orc platoon right that moment.

“But Bard, if we attack too early she could hurt our prisoners – we need some time to free Thorin and Kili before you start the attack on the orcs!” Fili was evidently trying and failing to calm the king of Laketown.

“Thorin and Kili? And what of my family, Fili? What about Sigrid?” Bard glared at the blond dwarf, furious, and Tauriel could see the hurt on both of their faces.

She decided to step forward and make her own suggestions.

“Fili, I need to leave – now. I’m heading off for the mountain. And I need you to come with me! What’s the delay?”

She saw the blond dwarf spin round to face her, surprise showing on his face. And something else too. He looked just as terrible as she did. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was Legolas that spoke for him.

“My lady, the people of Laketown are being taken back onto the streets of Dale, as prisoners of the orcs.” He cleared his throat. “If the stories by which they are known are true, then it can only mean one thing. They will line everyone up in the streets outside Erebor and separate the weak from the strong – the weak to be butchered where they stand while the strong to be taken as slaves.”

Bard spoke angrily. “We can’t let it happen – we have a large enough force of arms to take them on now– we need to fight them, before my people are massacred!”

Tauriel nodded readily. “The people of Laketown mustn’t be harmed – we can free our friends ourselves.” She looked at Fili and Dwalin, daring them to disagree. “And the fewer of us heading inside the mountain the better – we need to go unseen.”

Dwalin looked to Fili, waiting for his decision. “If you would command it of me, I will remain here and lead Dáin’s troops against this foe – and I daresay the rest of our company  will join in too once they see what’s kicking off.” He gave Tauriel a grudging nod. “What the elf says is true – our troops are better off out in the open.”

Fili ran a hand through his long, blond braids, concern all over his face. “How long do we have? Since you seem to know so much about orcs, maybe you can tell us that?” He stared darkly at Legolas.

The fair-haired elf just shrugged. “No more than an hour, _dwarf_. If you want to get your family out of the mountain before the fighting starts, then you must move quickly. I will leave my guards here to deal with those orcs – they will stand by Bard.” He sniffed, and turned his gaze onto Tauriel. She saw his mouth relax into a softer smile, as he looked at her in concern. “I will come with _you_ – and help you save your friends.”

Tauriel could feel her eyes welling up with tears. She hadn’t expected that he would join her – not with this. She smiled at her newfound ally, thanking him in elvish. “ _I am very grateful, my friend_.”

Legolas bowed to her, fixing her with a stare. _“You will always have a friend in me, my lady.”_

“And I’m coming into the mountain too.” Tauriel looked down in surprise at the hobbit, jumping up to his feet, and meeting the elves’ incredulous stares evenly. “I can stay hidden – we hobbits are very good at it. I’m not sitting around here on my own round here while you lot get all the glory.”

Tauriel looked at Fili quizzically, but the dwarf was already smiling and nodding. “I was counting on you volunteering, Bilbo – you’re the only one except Dwalin who knows the way!”

Dwalin scoffed. “Aye, we need you, lad. The last thing we want is our king-to-be heading off into the dark with a pair of _elves_!”

Tauriel ignored the comment, and strode right upto Fili. “Let’s go. This door isn’t going to open itself, is it?”

The dwarf sighed, catching Bilbo’s eye with a look of discomfort. “From what I’ve been told – no. It might take a bit of persuasion.”

Tauriel nodded, squinting up at the Lonely Mountain, seeing how the trailing cloud still hid its top from view, as if the summit didn’t exist in this self same world anymore. “I hope you’re well versed in your dwarven spells, Fili, or we might have to _persuade_ it with violence...”

 

***   ***   ***

 

Kili opened his eyes, fancying he could hear a strange scraping coming from beyond the door of their cell. But the darkness was so total since the lamps had burnt out, he could see nothing to either stoke or allay any of the countless fears swirling around his heart.

He closed his eyes again, trying to find some shelter in sleep to forget about the madness going on all around him.

“Kili, are you awake?”

Automatically, his eyes opened at the sound of his uncle’s voice. “Yes, Thorin. I can’t sleep. I think I’m too tired for it.”

His uncle grunted in agreement. “You’ll be able to sleep later, Kili. Our friends will not abandon you – they’ll be come for you soon.”

Kili felt a shiver run through him. He was sure his uncle was right – and it both cheered him and terrified him. He desperately wanted to believe there was some chance they might escape, but not if it would mean his friends trading places with him. Or those beasts laying a finger on his red-haired elf...

“Do you think Fili’s with them, uncle? It can’t be true, can it? What they said.” Kili could hear how small and thin his voice sounded. As if he was a child again, looking to his busy parents for reassurances that there weren’t any monsters under the bed or inside the wardrobe as they put him to sleep at night. Only for him to repeat the questioning once the lights were out on his ever-patient older brother...

He heard Thorin’s silent pause, and realised he probably shouldn’t have asked.

“I can’t believe it, Kili. It’s a lie. It’s a lie designed to hurt us. If they had Fili, do you not think he would be here right now with us? Why would he have gone out on a boat, in the middle of a storm, with Bard? It’s nonsense.”

Kili felt a sudden anger. “He went to see Sigrid, Thorin. Bard’s daughter. He was going – _we_ were going – to journey to Mirkwood to see if we could negotiate terms with Thranduil. Only I guess your fiancée’s attack on Tauriel put an end to my involvement with that!”

There was nothing but silence on the other side of the cell. Cold, stony, silence. But Kili was beyond caring.

“They didn’t want to marry those people you assigned them to, Thorin. Fili and Sigrid wanted to marry each other – they love each other! But you never even bothered to ask him how he felt.”

Kili could hear the anger building up in his words, and forced himself to stop before he started shouting. This wasn’t the time, or the place, to be attacking his uncle. They were all each other had right now.

He leaned back as far as he could, against the neck restraint, and waited for his uncle’s anger to engulf him.

“Kili, are you telling me that Fili was in that boat?”

Kili opened his eyes again, uncertain. His uncle’s voice was distraught. He’d never heard him like that before. It awakened a whole new level of panic within Kili.

“I... I don’t know, Thorin.” He didn’t know what else to say. “It’s possible. That’s why it worries me so much.”

There was no reply from across the cell, just thick silence. And then Kili heard his uncle sob – his own uncle – as gruff and stern a dwarf as ever he’d known – a king amongst his peers – openly sobbing out loud.

“I’m sure he’s okay.” Kili whispered. “She’s lied to us so many times, why would this be the truth?”

He heard his uncle choking down his emotions, wrestling for control again. “It’s all my fault, Kili. All of this. Us being here, what happened to your elf – what has happened to Fili!”

Kili shook his head in the darkness. “It’s her fault, Thorin. She did all of those things – you just let her do them because you trusted her. You didn’t know.”

But his uncle wasn’t listening. “I remember when you were both born, Kili. You and your brother.” The older dwarf sighed uneasily. “Your brother was such a sunny child – always smiling and happy – but you were the opposite. You got so upset when my sister would leave you alone – you’d make yourself ill with your screaming and bawling...”

Kili heard his uncle shift awkwardly against his restraints on the far wall, and tried hard to picture his uncle babysitting small children.

“But then your brother would come to you – Fili would lie beside you – and you’d be still. You’d be at peace. All the crying would stop.” He choked back another sob. “My sister has done a fine job with the pair of you – your father would be so proud to see you today. _I’ve_ been so proud of the people you’ve both become, Kili. You’re my heirs, but you’re my blood too. I cannot let anything bad happen to either of you!”

Kili listened to his uncle, wishing he knew what to say.

“You made a mistake, Thorin, trusting her. That’s all. You were too busy mistrusting my elf to even consider tha _t woman_ would be false.”

“I’m sorry, Kili. I’m sorry I doubted your elf. She was not the enemy, and you were right all along.” He sighed again. “I’ve hurt you and your brother, and scorned my good friend Bilbo, all for that woman and her lies. I’ve been nothing but a fool, and brought pain to the only people who matter to me...”

Kili found himself nodding. “I know you’re sorry, Thorin. I’m sorry too, for all of this – but I’ll accept your apology. As long as you promise me one thing.”

He heard his uncle shift against his restraints. “What is it, Kili?”

Kili sighed. “Think of some way to get us out of this – I don’t want either of us to die here, uncle. And if we get do get out of this alive, you can go and tell Tauriel that you’re sorry too.”

Kili thought about the long, red, hair and green eyes he loved so much, and wanted so badly to see her again. “She’s going to be an important part of my life, uncle – I want you to respect that and get on with her. You’ll like her, if you give her a chance...”

He heard Thorin nod his head, shaking the metal collar. “I promise, Kili. I know you love her. I will try to love her too.”

Kili smiled invisibly in the darkness. “And Fili – you have to apologise to him. And let him be free to marry Bard’s daughter if he chooses.”

There was a silence for a moment while his uncle considered. “Agreed.”

“Good. That’s a start.” Kili nodded, his fear forgotten for the time being. “So now we have everything settled, uncle, we just need the rest of our plan. How are we going to get out of this? There must be something we can do? Something we can say? Do you have any ideas?”

“Possibly.” His uncle growled in the darkness. “You just leave that to me.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

As the little band climbed the craggy mountain track, the silence between them deepened even as the air grew colder and thinner. There was no pleasing view up here as they neared the summit: the bare winter landscape stretching on below them was not pleasing to the heart or the mind’s eye. They were on the eastern side of the mountain now, facing the bleak and featureless plains through which none of them had ever journeyed – and the jarring desolation of those frontier wastelands reminded each and every one of them of their own voiceless loneliness as they trudged ever higher into the clouds.

Fili wondered just how much further they had to go. Already the tendrils of mist were gliding over the trackway ahead, and soon their view of the mountainside would be completely blocked.

“I think it was around here somewhere – I’m sure of it. If only this blasted fog would clear!” Bilbo stopped and tried to catch his bearings, tilting his head and checking at the flat rocks by the mountainside. “Maybe it was over there...”

Fili watched him trot back round the corner, and halted, raising a hand up to the two elves who followed behind him. The tall, blond elven prince wrinkled his nose.

“Your family built this... _city_ , didn’t they?” He gestured around at the wild mountainside. “Why did they not leave you a map with the exits written down?”

The dwarf narrowed his blue-grey eyes immediately. “My people had no time to collect such trappings when the dragon attacked our home.” He turned back to watch for the hobbit, hoping that he would return with some good news this time. “One day we will recover all that was lost to us, but that day has not yet come.”

He hated the defensive tone in his voice, but he could feel the elf’s eyes on him, studying him, checking him, and it was doing nothing for his mood. He almost wished that Legolas had stayed with his guards in Dale, but Fili could see he was a skilled fighter, and he would prove useful once they got inside.

If they got inside.

Fili was concerned about the whole idea. He would have preferred battling the orc hordes upfront in Dale, over all this creeping around – but not when his brother and uncle were being held hostage. The secret doorway was their only way in. And Balin had said it was shut, and only he could open it! He just hoped it was obvious, or they would have to wait for Gandalf’s advice after the battle in Dale, and by then it might all be too late...

“It’s here, I’ve found it. Come and see!”

At the sound of Bilbo’s excited voice, the three warriors turned and retraced their steps round the mountain, walking upto where the hobbit stood right against the rock-face at a wider, flatter part of the track.

“Look – see the mark on the rock?” Bilbo pointed to a cracked area of the cliff-side, where the moss and lichens had been recently torn away. “That’s the door.” He gave Fili a cheerful smile. “All we need to do now is open it.”

Fili nodded, feeling the three pairs of eyes turn to him expectantly.

“Right,” he said, reaching a hand out to touch the cold, clammy rock. “I don’t suppose you remember how it opened last time, do you?”

Bilbo stared at the rock for a moment, at a loss. “It was the moonlight. The moonlight opened the door.”

“Right.” Fili muttered. He tried pushing at the door-shape, with varying degrees of strength, but the rock remained solid. He sighed. “Tauriel, do you have any idea what I should be doing here?”

But the elf shook her head. “I am afraid I know nothing about magic, Fili, save the odd elemental healing.” She looked into his eyes sadly. “I am not a noble, I was not taught such things.” She shifted her gaze to Legolas. “Can you help, perhaps?”

Legolas studied the blank rock face, and shook his head. “If it was dwarven magic that sealed this, then it surely cannot be very sophisticated. Maybe you should try striking it with your axe.” He shrugged at Fili. “Or your head – whichever one is the denser.”

The dwarf saw Bilbo rolling his eyes, and took a deep breath. Maybe the suggestion wasn’t as stupid as it sounded. He reached for the axe he carried on his back, and held it aloft, watching how the sharpened blade shined lustrously even in the dull daylight.

He’d made it two years ago, before coming on his uncle’s quest, and it truly was a thing of beauty. Made of a steel alloy, there was real gold from the Lonely Mountain gone into its smelting – his uncle had given him the metal for his birthday, and Fili had known exactly what he wanted to do with it.

If the elves tied their souls to the trees and rivers, then the dwarves must tie theirs to the rocks and ores – and everything they crafted with their elemental nature. And then his axe undoubtedly was a part of him too, as surely as his own hands were.

And maybe the mountain would recognise it as such?

He held the axe to the sky, and with a silent prayer to Mahal, he thrust it into the rock-face with all his strength.

The shockwave ran immediately up through his arm, and all the way into his jaw, as his axe chipped some small flake of stone away from the cliff-side.

But the door did not stir.

It didn’t open.

Fili stared at it, willing it to move, but nothing happened.

Behind him, he heard Legolas chuckle. “It might be faster if you chip at it with your head, dwarf.”

“Legolas, please!” Tauriel sounded impatient. “We need to get inside. We need to think!”

Fili tried to think. How could the mountain possibly recognise him? Was it magic? Was it a key? And just who was eligible for this? Maybe it was only Thorin. He was, after all, the king. Or did the charm extend out to Thorin’s entire family network, or to people connected with them? People like Sigrid. Or Tauriel?

He closed his eyes, picturing her face as he’d last seen her, smiling at him desperately even through her fear, and he felt his heart tearing in two.

_Bard will find her in Dale, and all the rest of them. She doesn’t need me right now – I can’t help her. I can only help Thorin, and Kili..._

_But how can I help any of them, if I can’t even open this door!_

He let the axe drop to the ground beside him, and gripped the rock-face with the tips of his fingers, trying with all his concentration to find some kind of opening around the door – some kind of hinge that could be prised open. But there was nothing. It felt just like regular stone.

And behind him, he heard Legolas clearing his throat. “I believe my father has books on dwarven magic – I imagine he knows more about your magical traditions than your own people do. I could go back and fetch one from Mirkwood if you like, Fili? It might save some time?”

Fili gave into his frustrations, and pounded on the door with his fist. He only struck the rock-face once, but it was enough to break the skin on his knuckles and draw blood. He felt the rage dissipate slightly through the pain on his hand, and turned around to face the now-silent elf-prince who’d been goading him all morning.

But it was Tauriel who raised her finger and pointed. “Fili – the door moved!”

He veered back round to check, and sure enough, a dark slit about an inch wide had appeared on one corner of the rock. He tried prising it with his hand again, but it wouldn’t budge from muscular strength alone.

Bilbo spoke up, excited. “Try knocking it again, Fili!”

He tried wrapping it with his pain-free, uninjured hand this time, but the door stayed stubbornly still, and suddenly, Fili understood.

_It’s the blood. It opens with blood._

Without a word to the others, he reached into his belt for one of his hunting knives, and drew it from the sheath. The pointed end gleamed wickedly, and Fili thought for a second, then plunged it down across the tip of his left hand’s index finger. Blood burst to the surface immediately, welling up in a big, red globule, and without a moment’s hesitation, the dwarf smeared his bleeding finger across the mountain door.

And as the door swung noisily open, he awarded himself a little smile of victory.

_“You will know a king not by the crown he wears, but by the selflessness in which he rules. The cornerstone of kingship is sacrifice, Fili. And sometimes that sacrifice means your own blood needs to be spilled.”_

He remembered the words of his mother, as she sat him on her lap the day after his father had died. It was a motto he’d tried to live by, more than any of the rest of his family. He wondered if whoever had built the door had taken the old Khuzdul saying to heart.

“You opened it!” He heard Tauriel behind him, jubilant. She sidled up beside him, and touched his arm gently. “Thank you, Fili. I knew you’d do it.” And she waved to Bilbo and Legolas, who stood staring somewhat apprehensively at the yawning black opening on the rock-face. “Come on, let’s go!”

And without waiting for the rest of them, she strode through the door and inside the mountain, leaving her companions behind.

Fili turned to Legolas, and mock-bowed. “My prince, after you. Welcome to Erebor.”

The elf scowled at him. “Will it close behind us? We might need to get out in a hurry, and you might not be here with us when we leave.”

The dwarf shrugged, and raised his eyebrow at the hobbit. “I don’t know, Legolas. You’re not afraid of being stuck inside the mountain, are you? There will be candles on the way if the dark distresses you.”

“You’re very amusing, dwarf.” Legolas growled, and marched through the door.

Fili waved the hobbit through next, then took a careful look all around the mountainside, checking for unwanted witnesses to their entrance. Satisfied they were all alone, he stepped into the dark passage himself, drawing his sword in readiness, and felt a cold gust of wind at his back as he strode downwards into the darkness.

 

***   ***   ***  

 

In the dark tunnels that threaded for miles under the summit of the Lonely Mountain, a faint draft stirred and brought a new chill to the lower corridors, encased as they were in the deep earth’s warm embrace.

Lying on the hard dirt floor, Sigrid opened her eyes with a start, and drew herself into a ball on her knees, trying to warm herself. She didn’t remember falling asleep – she’d sat down in the narrow corridor and allowed herself to cry for a while, but she must have been more tired than she’d realised. Her stomach was telling her it was way past her normal rising time – and her muscles told her she’d been cold for too long. Not that she cared, particularly – time had very little meaning down here in these black, muffled tunnels.

She forced herself onto her feet as gently as she could, and stomped at them to try and get her blood running again, but it was no use. The temperature had dropped, and it was time to move on again.

_Fili might be gone, but his brother isn’t. I need to find Kili, before it’s too late for him. Then I can sleep._

She forced herself onwards down the tunnel, making for the lights she could see at the far end – they hadn’t been there earlier, she was sure of it – and tried to fight the sudden spell of dizziness that surged through her. It had been a long time since she’d had anything to drink, and she was thirsty.

She fancied, walking on, that she could hear water flowing, and she wondered with a shiver whether it was the start of a delirium. If all the tears she’d cried last night had tipped her over the edge from misery to insanity, and she just didn’t realise it. Because that’s what they said about mad people, wasn’t it? They never knew they were mad, and so how would she know if she was delirious or not?

And it wouldn’t take much to lose your way down these passages – you wouldn’t even need to be particularly mad, or all that delirious – just a little bit confused would be enough. And you could be wandering around for days, doubling back on yourself and going round in circles, with nobody knowing you were here at all – until you dropped to your knees with exhaustion, and never found the strength to make it back up again.

And then nobody would ever find you. You’d be a pile of dry bones – a lonely husk hidden away in the darkness until the mountain turned to dusk at the end of all eternity, and the last trace of your existence was finally erased forever.

_I need to find something to drink. I don’t want to get lost down here!_

She stopped, as the passageway opened out on one side to reveal a large, dimly-lit chamber off to the left. Strange smells swirled around in the air here, with a welcome warmth that made her skin rejoice. But she was sure she could hear running water – there was a gurgling, splashing noise coming from within the chamber, and Sigrid decided in an instant to abandon her tunnel.

Looking around intently, she saw the room was deserted. Large stone troughs perched on elevated walkways running across the floor, while from the high, columned ceiling – invisible in the gloom far above her head – large chains and pulleys hung down low to the ground. The whole scene was bathed in a yellow shimmering light, emanating from the gaps she could see in the floor, and Sigrid understood finally where she was.

_This must be the forge room – there has to be a water-pipe in here!_

Her eyes searched for it, flitting back and forth between the flickering shadows as the fiery shimmer crept along the walls and threw her perspective off balance. But she spied it – on the longer wall off to her right. There was a trickle of water, spilling out from up high on the wall and falling into a dark reservoir of water just below floor level.

Taking a quick glance around for a final time, she scuttled out of her hidden portal, and ran straight across the forge chamber. The room seemed bigger as she crossed it now, and more disorientating. Part of her wanted to admire the pretty golden glow that danced all round the walls, but her thirst was too strong. Sigrid ran straight to the side of the small, square reservoir and dropped to her knees. The water was within reach – if she leant all the way in with her arms – but it was warm to the touch, and after she licked her finger and decided it was clean, she gulped as much as her hands could manage.

And it was the most delicious water she could remember ever drinking.

She slowed down, after a minute, and tried to take in some of her surroundings, idly wondering which way she should go from here on in. Was it likely that the prisoners were held anywhere near the forge? She had no idea about dwarven architectural standards.

Her newfound contentment was soon shattered when she heard footsteps coming her way. She stiffened at once, and ducked down flat on the ground, her head arcing round to discern the origin of this new, ominous noise. There was a large door straight in front of her, by the far wall – presumably it was the main door into this room – but the footsteps were coming closer, and she couldn’t tell where from. She knew, with a sinking feeling, that she didn’t have time to run back to her passageway.

She froze as she heard a woman’s voice, one that she recognised all too well, and looked around desperately for somewhere to hide.

“It is all set up then, my lord?”

 There was nothing else for it. Sigrid rolled herself off the tiled floor and slid into the water tank, trying to minimise her splash and duck her head below floor level before she could be seen.

The water was not as warm as she’d thought.

“It is done. The prisoners are ready for sorting. Keep those you wish.”

Sigrid recognised the deeper voice from earlier, and felt her skin crawl in disgust. She tried to hold herself still in the deep, dark water, gripping the near side with her hands, and bracing off the other with her toes. She didn’t want them to hear the water splash and look her way...

“Excellent. I will attend to my new people when we have finished up in here!” Rose laughed, a high-pitched, girlish sound, that echoed round the room. “Are you ready yet, my friend?”

The white fiend next to her grunted angrily. “I have Oakenshield and his younger nephew. The plans are set for them to _die_.” There was a tender, almost loving stress on his final word, and in her mind’s eye Sigrid could picture the big beast lolling its tongue over its grey, swollen lips.

“But I have no luck catching the older nephew – my son has not yet found him.” Sigrid heard something  smash on the floor, close to the voices, and her eyes widened. “I want him to die with the others. I want to destroy them all! I will not allow even one of that filthy bloodline to survive!”

Sigrid closed her eyes, her heart beating faster in her chest.

_Fili – he’s talking about Fili. He’s still alive! She must have been lying earlier – my father and Fili haven’t drowned – they’re both alive..._

She felt a hot tear tickle down her cheek, and she squeezed her eyes shut as far as they would go, afraid she might make a sound.

“He won’t stay hidden for long. Once the Laketown people are put to the sword, he’ll soon show himself. That family are all the same. Any opportunity for a bit of moralistic heroism! Have your son stay hidden in Dale, and wait for the other nephew to arrive.”

Sigrid frowned as she heard a wet, slurping noise, and felt her stomach flip. Surely that woman wasn’t kissing the orc-beast?

“Are you going to delay Oakenshield’s execution, my lord? I would like to see it. And so would the people of Laketown – we will show them what happens to people who stand against us.”

“Oakenshield and his heir will die,” came the hissed reply. “It is all ready. I will wait no longer. I will have them brought here now...”

“Excellent, my king.”

Sigrid opened her eyes, hearing the sound of feet marching towards the door. She felt suddenly very trapped in her water tank – what if one of them walked over and saw her from the side?

“Guards – bring the prisoners from their cell. Bring them here now, and make sure they are both blindfolded when they arrive. We don’t want to spoil the surprise now, do we?”

And the woman’s tinny laugh raced manically round the room again, rising up the ceiling in a high-pitched, wavering torrent, then dropping down like a leaden weight, landing hard on the ground and seeping through the polished, tiled floor at her feet.

 

 


	12. There is thy gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big showdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far, all of you. I'm getting close to finishing this up now - I actually wanted this to be the last chapter but it hasn't worked out according to that plan! So I have a number of different ideas for how to go about finishing up. I might write one more chapter after this, but I might also write quite a short follow-up chapter with an epilogue set a wee bit in the future - I don't know which would work best. If anyone has any actual opinions either way, let me know. I don't want this story to get overly long and convoluted, but I do want to try and tie everything up together as well! :)

Kili felt the point of a sword dig into his bare back even as he marched down the corridor. They’d been taken from their cell again without warning, and this time their escorts were giving nothing away – he had no idea where they were going, or for what purpose.

He had no doubt there would be trouble at the end of it, but part of him was just glad to get out of the cell. Outside the cell, there might be possibilities of escape. There might be possibilities to fight back, or to be rescued – if such a thing was even possible. Kili wasn’t holding out much hope for his dwarven friends being able to get through the Erebor gates, but he still had friends from Laketown. Maybe some of them would retaliate against the orcs and free him and his uncle.

He gritted his teeth as the collar dug into his neck, and focused his mind on the elf with red hair and green eyes who never strayed far from his thoughts. He had to get out, and get back to her. He couldn’t leave her on her own here in a strange land full of dwarves and men – she’d left behind her entire home to be with him.

He wasn’t going to be parted from her after they’d just found happiness together. And if Rose, or Azog, or anyone else in the world thought they would come between him and Tauriel, they would find out just how deep Kili’s anger could run.

“Where do you think we are now, uncle?” Kili grunted out the Khuzdul words as well as his neck collar would allow. He had the impression that they’d descended a floor or two, but without following the stairs it was hard to judge. The layout of this strange new city was still a mystery to him.

“They are taking us to the forge, Kili. I am sure of it. But do not ask me why.”

Kili looked around, trying to get his bearings, but he’d never been to the forge before. It didn’t seem to be any closer to the way out, at any rate. He tried to stay alert, memorising each corner they passed on the winding corridors in case he might have to return this way in a hurry, but after another sharp turn to the right, he found himself blinking. He thought he could see a yellow light at the end of the passageway – a light they were making straight for.

“Look Kili, I was right!”

The young dwarf noticed the heat immediately, before they’d even entered the forge. A pleasingly metallic smell filled the air and the glowing light shimmered along the walls as they neared the old forge room – sending Kili instantly on his guard. Who was in here, and why were they being brought to this old workshop? Surely Rose had no interest in traditional dwarven metallurgy.

As they were pushed through the large, open doorway, he saw her, waiting for them. She was wearing her dark hair up this time, gathered around her head in tight braids and pinned at the back, as if in some parody of his own family’s hairstyles. Kili felt the anger rising in his veins, and took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm and alert – he could see the pale orc was there with her – lurking in the shadows at the far end of the room, playing with some piece of machinery.

Kili and his uncle were led to within a few metres of her, and then shoved to the floor. To his surprise, Kili felt the iron collar being removed from his neck. The simple joy of being able to move his head freely was an unexpected relief, but as he saw the pale orc pacing across the room towards them again, he felt a growing unease.

“Well woman, what do you want with us now? His uncle’s voice was bitter.

Rose looked at them both in silence, studying Thorin’s sculpted torso with a thin smile playing on her lips, and took a deep breath.

“I want you to know, Thorin, that it was fun. Being with you, and everything. But like all things, our time together must come to an end.” She raised an eyebrow at him jovially. “I can’t very easily rule over your kingdom if you’re still here now, can I?”

Kili heard his uncle sneer. “Rule my kingdom? I was going to make you my queen! You told me you would give me a child. I would have given you anything you wanted, woman – all you had to do was ask!”

The woman stroked her stomach tenderly, and smiled up at Thorin. “You know, I might well be having a child – but it’s rather unlikely _you’ll_ be the father.” The pale orc strode up behind her and put his massive, hooked hand around her neck, and the woman laughed merrily. “Someone else got there first – with a better offer than you could ever make.”

Kili saw his uncle’s mouth sag in disbelief, as he stared in disgust at the woman.

“With an orc alliance I do not need a husband, Oakenshield. I will rule this city by myself, under Azog’s protection. And I will take what I want _for myself_.” She cast a stern black eye on both Kili and his uncle. “And I will hear no moralistic lectures from the likes of you! You who would sell your own kin into marriages of conveniences, all to serve your own selfish interests. At least I have the decency to make the decisions for myself _by myself_.”

Kili laughed bitterly – he couldn’t help it. “Yes, you’re a true icon, Rose. Tell that to all the Laketown people as you threaten their children, or sell them as slaves. You know what you are, just the same as we do. Another power-crazed liar, who’s whored her way into stealing a crown she’s in no way fit to wear.” He stared at her in anger. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Rose. People like you never live long to enjoy the spoils.”

The woman said nothing, but twisted her head slowly round to meet the pale orc’s blank, pitiless face, and raised her eyebrow mockingly.

“It is you who will not live long, _dwarf scum_.” The white beast’s voice was dry and rasping, and it sent a shiver down Kili’s spine just to hear it. “It is time for you and your uncle to die.”

Rose turned back to them and clapped her hands in mock glee. “That’s right, Kili! I shall certainly be outliving _you_ at least – because – well, welcome to your execution!” She grinned nastily, seeing Kili and Thorin share an uneasy glance at her feet. “We wanted to find a fitting way for you both to die, but it wasn’t easy. What with you being the last scion of the Line of Durin, and all that mythology stuff. You’re old gold dwarf royalty!” Rose nodded her head at them, in mock salute. “It doesn’t get more posh than that. So it wouldn’t be _becoming_ for a pleb like me to have you executed just any old way...”

Kili heard his uncle growl. “Get to the point, woman.”

The woman beckoned them closer with her little finger. “Come with me.”

And Kili suddenly felt a pair of arms on his shoulders, pulling him up and dragging him across on his legs – as he struggled to keep upright – the full length of the room, towards the shadowy machinery by the far wall.

And as he approached closer to the space, he realised it wasn’t dark after all – there was light coming from the floor. A tremendous, shimmering golden glow streamed up from a pool under the surrounding tiled walkway. The room was far warmer on this side – there must have been a furnace under the pool to keep the contents flowing so smoothly. For Kili recognised it to be liquid gold – in a larger quantity than he’d ever imagined. It was a beautiful sight, and Kili stared at it with a horrible fascination, the first trickle of fear starting to break lose within him.

He turned to his uncle, incredulous. “She can’t mean...?”

But his uncle said nothing, staring at the iridescent yellow liquid with a frown. “Kili,” he began, “we need weapons – anything you can find.”

Kili heard the note of fear in his uncle’s voice, and was silent. His hazel eyes darted around in the shadows, desperately seeking something that could serve their purpose. His hands might be cuffed – but he could still be dangerous, given the right tool.

The woman stopped, and gestured to a high platform, almost hidden in the corner of the room. There was a wide, wooden set of steps leading upto the top, and Kili could just about make out a large hook dangling from the ceiling, hanging beside the high platform edge.

“My friends, welcome to the end.” Rose stopped, making sure she had the two dwarves’ full attentions before continuing. “My associate has decided, that in order to preserve the memory of his final defeat of your dynasty, and the ruin and destruction of your Line of Durin, you are to die in a state of... _preservation_. In a bath of molten gold, to be precise. A fitting end, some might say, for a pair of dwarven royals like yourselves.”

Kili looked down at the bubbling metal, appalled, and felt a wave of nausea in his stomach. He looked to the top of the platform, wondering how much time they had – and how many avenues still remained to escape this demented plan. Possibly some of the steps, or rungs on the wooden banister on the staircase could be loose, and would serve as a weapon – but how could that help them once they were up there?

The pale orc stepped towards them, grinning cruelly. “I will lower you into your family gold, Oakenshield – you and your nephew together. And after you have both been covered, I will hang you up to dry. What better decoration for Erebor’s front gates?” The beast tilted its head back, and laughed – a curiously hoarse, wheezing sound, that seemed to Kili more reminiscent of pain than enjoyment.

The two orcs behind him dug the sword square into his back again. “Up the stairs – one at a time. Slowly. The young one goes first – then the old one.”

Kili tried to turn and meet his uncle’s eyes, but he was already being hurried towards the platform. This couldn’t be right. They needed more time to think – to plan for some strategy to get out of this – but there was no time, and Kili found he couldn’t think. Not of anything else apart from the gold, and how hot it felt even from here. He saw the first step already before him at his feet, and the sword at his back dug deeply into his spine until he stepped onto it.

The orc was following him up the stairs – so how was he going to be able to break off some weapon to use against it? He tried to catch his uncle’s eye again, hoping Thorin might have come up with a plan, but his face was struck from behind by the monstrously strong hand.

“Keep your eyes ahead of you, on the steps. Keep going.”

And before he could catch his thoughts, Kili found himself at the top, being marshalled onto a hideously flimsy platform, high above the golden pool. It wobbled under his weight as he stood there, and he wondered dimly how it would bear up under his captor’s size. He tried to struggle loose but the orc held him in place, and reached to grab for the large hook, overhanging the pool by the side of the platform.

Without a word, Kili’s arms were raised roughly above his head, and his cuffed wrists were placed over the curved end of the hook, before the orc let go of the device so it swung back into place. Kili felt a sudden panic as his legs were dragged over and off the platform, and he was trapped there, helpless and suspended.

_I can’t get any weapons now – I can’t even move! I can’t get off this hook!_

He ventured a look down at his boots, and saw the molten gold shimmering below, the waves of heat already warming his face – and his uncle being marshalled up the steps as he had been moments before.

“Thorin!” Kili shouted to his uncle, hoping he could think of something right now. Kili didn’t want to die here, like this. He stared at the golden pit below in horror, and felt unbearably close to fainting. But what was the point of trying to stay alert now? He was going to die, and the animal instinct in him to flee was becoming all-consuming.

As his uncle was forced onto the platform, Kili saw the large orc guard grab for the hook again, and when he leant closer Kili tried desperately to kick at him – to try to somehow overpower the orc and send him over the edge. But it was no use. The muscular brute merely laughed and threw his uncle’s hands over the hook beside Kili’s.

The pair of them were swung off the platform, draped in mid air – held uncomfortably by their wrists – with nothing to separate them from the burning gold but fifteen metres of warm, baking air.

Kili watched, struggling to breathe in the scorching fumes, as Azog strode over to a set of controls on the left-hand wall of the room.

“It is time to die, Oakenshield.” Azog pulled the lever down, and Kili felt his heart drop as the hook started to slowly sink towards the pool. “The moment I have waited decades for has come at last.”

Kili heard his uncle’s voice, begging. “Spare my nephew, Azog! Spare Kili! I will do anything you ask of me if you let him live!”

In answer, Azog wrenched the lever clean off the control box. Kili stared in disbelief, and felt his chest constrict in despair. Now there was no way to stop the machinery. He closed his eyes, willing it to be over quickly.

“No Oakenshield, you both die together. I have waited an age to watch this. Your deaths will be... _delicious_ to me....”

Kili heard his uncle groan at the sight of the broken control box, and he turned his own eyes away from the heartbreaking sight, closing them tight against the evil all around. They had dropped a metre so far – only another nineteen or so to go, before Azog won for good. He could already feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“ _Thorin!_ _Kili!_ ”

Kili snapped his eyes open in an instant, searching for the source of the cry. He knew that voice... He knew that dwarf!

As he returned to the moment, still holding his breath, he saw Fili standing in the main doorway, taking in the scene with a look of astonishment, as right behind him Bilbo, Tauriel , and another elven warrior all came piling through the door, their weapons drawn.

“Kili?” He heard her call out to him, across the room – his flame-haired elf – and he smiled to behold her beauty once more.

“Help us!” he cried. “Quickly! They want to lower us into the metal!” He saw her step forward, locking eyes with him across the room, and in a second she was running to him – running straight across the room, right across the path of the pale orc who stood watching the small incoming party with malefic interest.

“So here comes the second heir of Oakenshield – just in time. I will string you up with the two of them so you will die together.” The beast waved his hand in command to the guards waiting by the golden pool. And with a bellow of scornful laughter, they spun round to face Tauriel with their swords as she sped towards Kili and Thorin.

Kili tried to warn her, but she’d already seen them – and so had her blond elven friend. From the doorway, Kili saw an arrow fly from a long, silver bow with a precision he would have struggled to match. It found its target within seconds. Striking straight through the larger orc’s eye, it brought the lumbering beast down to the ground, tripping up his companion and allowing Tauriel to jump clear.

“Tauriel, look out!” The little hobbit was chasing behind her, running for the platform as fast as his legs would take him, his sword outstretched as if he knew how to use it. Kili wondered how long him and his uncle had left – they’d dropped five metres already now, and the warming updrafts were starting to sear his skin.

He looked to his brother, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tauriel’s blond companion as Azog approached them in the far corner of the room, and tried to see where the woman had gone to in all of this – she had disappeared into the shadows behind the tall columns, hidden from view.

“How can I get you down? How do I stop it?” Tauriel was shouting up at them, panic all over her face, lit up from below by the yellow glow shining up from the ghoulish pool.

His uncle spoke. “You can’t stop it – the lever is broken. You’ll need to pull us to the side, before the chain descends all the way. But do it quickly!”

The elf made to start up the staircase, and Kili felt his uncle jerk on the hook. “No, there’s no time for that! Stay on the ground level. You’ll need to rein us in from the side!”

Tauriel looked around wildly. Their downward trajectory lay at least three metres away from the tiled edge of the floor – well beyond her arm span. “But how? I can’t reach that far to get you both!”

The hobbit passed the orc lying winded on the floor, and stabbed him in the throat with his full bodyweight. The sword was thrust so deep into the creature’s neck that Bilbo just left it embedded there while the creature spluttered and died, hastening to the elf’s side by the golden pool.

“There – look!” Bilbo pointed to the curled end of the wooden banister, trailing down from the edge of the staircase at head-level. “Break it off, Tauriel! You can reel them in with that!”

The elf turned, and eyed the wooden banister doubtfully.

“Yes, that’s it, Tauriel! Cut it with your sword – go on!” Thorin tried to encourage her, seeing her doubt. “Swing it as if it was an axe!”

Kili saw her meet his eyes one last time and take a deep breath – and then she raised her elven blade high above her head, bringing it down deftly in a tight arc towards the wooden beam. The timber broke relatively cleanly, and the two of them fell upon it at once, twisting and pulling with all their strength to get the banister loose from the rest of the staircase before Thorin and Kili passed them by.

With a crash, they wrested it free, and Tauriel gripped the end of it unsteadily, trying to angle the curved end upwards towards the large hook above Kili’s head.

For the moment, they were just out of range, but Tauriel could see the angle would improve as they descended further. Stiffening up and finding a comfortable stance, she stretched her lever upwards and across, waiting for just the right moment to snare her quarry. Kili hoped fervently that she wouldn’t miss – there would be no second chance here – his feet were barely five metres above the gold now. If she missed them as they passed at floor level, there would be no way to haul them clear in time.

“Steady now, lass.” He heard his uncle, speaking soothingly to the elf as she frowned in heavy concentration. “Steady... stay steady... and now! Go for it!”

At his command, she twisted her crook and managed to catch hold of the large metallic hook, and with a cry of exertion, she began to pull back on the banister. The hobbit had his arms around her, holding her steady in case she lost her balance on the smooth tiles, and helped her reel the two dwarves onto the firm surface of the floor.

Kili’s feet were already below floor-level when they were bundled over, and he had to raise himself over the edge with some difficulty, struggling beside his uncle. He rolled himself onto the solid ground and shut his eyes momentarily, feeling his uncle lying safe beside him. They’d made it. He’d never been more relieved of anything in his life.

The hobbit rushed towards them both, manoeuvring the hook under their wrists and discarding it to the ground . It dropped onto the tiles with a solid thud, the chain piling up in a heap as the pulley system still tried to lower itself into the gold.

Free at last, Kili staggered forward and was caught fast by Tauriel, sobbing as he felt her arms encircling him, pulling his body towards her, and away from the pool. He couldn’t hold her back – his wrists were still cuffed with the restraints – but his mouth found hers and he kissed her frantically, losing himself in her warm embrace with a desperate longing.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” She broke away to scan him up and down, concern clouding her bright green eyes. “They didn’t do anything to you, Kili?”

He shook his head, feeling another wave of dizziness as he did so. “No, I’m fine. Thanks to you.” He let her hold him tight beside herself, his cheek against her cheek, and looked around the room, checking on his family.

Thorin was being helped to his feet by Bilbo – the two of them were embracing closely and Kili was satisfied his uncle was unharmed. He turned back to the chamber, seeking out his brother, but could find only the blond elf, duelling with Azog in the far corner.

“Where’s Fili?” He still couldn’t see his older brother – or the woman – and he edged round uneasily. He reached without thought for the sword he usually wore on his belt, and cursed as his cuffed hands drew nothing. He was in no position to fight right now, even if he could find a suitable weapon.

“Look, there he is!” Tauriel pointed to the floor by the control box, where the fallen dwarf lay sprawled in a heap. He was moving slowly, as if injured, but Azog’s attention was for now focused on the blond elf. She turned back to Kili, her face anguished.

“I must help them!”

“Go to them, Tauriel – they need you.” Kili was loathe to let her go from him so soon, but their only chance was to face the hulking pale orc together. He motioned to his uncle and the hobbit.“We need to get these cuffs off before we can help.”

Tauriel nodded uncertainly, and started running towards Legolas, eager to rejoin the fray before either of her friends were hurt.

Kili sighed as he watched her go. He saw Fili was back on his feet again, and shook his head angrily, feeling useless. The two people he loved most in the whole world were left facing Azog alone, and all he could do was sit and watch.

“Bilbo? Do you think you could use Sting to break the chains on these cuffs? It’s made of elvish steel, isn’t it? It should be stronger than this iron!”

The hobbit nodded appraisingly. “I’ll try, Kili. Let me just... _retrieve_ it.”

Kili sank to his knees, feeling dizzy again, and watched as the hobbit hurried back to the fallen orcs. Further away, Tauriel was drawing her bow in the direction of the pale orc, and her arrow flew true to its target, catching Azog in the neck and earning her a howl of rage for her troubles.

The pale orc turned round to face her, surprised by the new challenger at his back, and Legolas took a swipe from the front, slashing at the orc’s belly with his sword. Kili saw the blood spurt out from across the room, but the orc surged forward and punched Legolas with his intact hand. The force was strong enough to send the elf tumbling backwards, falling into a metallic oven by the side of the wall and plunging him head over heels to the ground.

Kili was on his feet again, his heart in his mouth as he watched Tauriel brandish her sword against the huge, monstrous orc, standing her ground as Azog turned his attention back to her.

Cursing, he leapt to his feet, about to speed to her defence in whatever way he could – but his brother got there first. Running into a supportive position on Tauriels’s left flank, he raised his sword in warning at the orc. If only the blond elf would get up, Kili thought – they’d have Azog wounded and surrounded. But the elf lay motionless by the oven, and Kili wondered whether he’d knocked his head off the wall.

“Bilbo, hurry up!” He heard his uncle beside him, as impatient to join the fight as he was, and saw the hobbit scurrying over with the sword at last. He ran to them, and turned at once to Thorin.

“What do I do?” He asked simply.

“Break the chain between the cuffs! The iron will break if you force the sword through the link.” Thorin had his eye on the two fallen orcs. “We’ll take their swords, and fight with Fili.”

Kili nodded, wordlessly pleading that the hobbit was quick in freeing them both. He didn’t know what Tauriel and Fili’s odds were against Azog, but his instincts were screaming at him to help them.

And as if hearing his frantic thoughts from across the length of the room, the evil-eyed pale orc suddenly looked him right in the eye – as if looking right into his very soul – and smiled demonically. Kili flinched, feeling the orc’s gaze like acid on his face, his mouth starting to form a syllable cry even as he watched on in vain from the distance.

But even as his scream froze in the air, he watched Azog take a leap forward with a staggering speed, straight into the path of his flame-haired lover. She raised her sword to block the blow, but he swept her feet out from under her and she fell hard to the floor. Azog stood poised with his hooked arm raised above her, ready to strike her across the face with the blade – but as he made to land it he was stabbed in the side by Fili.

Kili felt relieved – for all of a second – until the hideous pale orc turned on his brother and this time brought the hooked hand down right upon him. Kili heard his cry of pain echo through the room, and felt stunned. Azog had his brother now – his curved hook had caught Fili through the shoulder on his sword arm, and when the pale orc raised his arm victoriously, Fili was lifted off the ground, impaled on the end of the hook like a slab of meat.

Tauriel tried valiantly to rise to her feet, reaching for the bow on her back, but the orc kicked her hard in the chest and strode forward, with Fili caught on the end of his hook – still gripping his sword defiantly but completely unable to raise it in defence. He flinched with each step as he was carried along by his wounded shoulder.

The orc strode purposefully towards Kili and his uncle, leaving Tauriel behind on the floor, crying out for her lover. Her bow lay halfway across the room, well out of her reach.

“Bilbo, hurry up!” Thorin bellowed, his eyes stuck fast to Azog.

The hobbit didn’t look up from his work. “It’s nearly there!”

“Hurry!”

Kili saw the metal link stretching under the width of the elvish blade, but the pale orc was rapidly closing the distance between them. He looked around, desperate for something to use as a weapon in his cuffed hands, but all he could see was the wooden banister, lying discarded next to the pulley hook. The swords of the dead orc guards lay out of reach – Azog was already striding past them.

The yellow glow of the pool illuminated his ragged, pallid skin with an otherworldly horror, and Kili felt rooted to the spot, wondering what Azog’s first move was to be now. His brother flinched with every step, but his grey-blue eyes gripped Kili’s as he approached, and he waved the sword slightly. Kili nodded to Thorin, hoping Fili would understand.

The great white orc grinned at them, revealing rows of grey, pointed teeth behind his peeling lips.

“Which one of your nephews do you wish to die first, Oakenshield?” His black, beady eyes turned on Kili hungrily. “The younger one?” He lifted his arm higher, raising Fili into the air and eliciting a pained groan from the wounded dwarf. “Or the golden one?”

Thorin stiffened, and stared at Azog evenly. Kili watched as Bilbo finally managed to pop the link between his uncle’s cuffs – although Azog obviously couldn’t see past the hobbit to realise yet.

The huge orc took a step closer to the golden pool, his bulk towering over the three small figures on the floor.

“If you will not choose, Oakenshield, then I will do it for you!” The orc curled his lip in a leer of pure hatred, and tensed his hooked arm. Kili could see the beast was readying to throw his brother into the pool, and he tensed himself in readiness, about to spring on their signal.

Fili knew what Azog was going to do, and let his sword arm swing backwards, picking up momentum, and in the split second before Azog hurled him towards the fiery gold, he swung his arm back sharply to release the weapon towards their uncle.

And Thorin was ready for it.

He caught it by the handle in mid air, and before Azog could even react, Thorin was slashing at the great orc’s neck, spilling his blood over the floor. The orc sank to his knees on cue, dropping Fili from his hooked hand mid-arc.

The blond dwarf fell to the floor and rolled towards the edge of the pit, but Kili threw himself on top of him, pinning his brother to the tiled surface before he could fall.

He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, trying not to hurt Fili as he struggled with his cuffed hands to rise to his knees. There was a vengeful, angry wheeze coming from the great orc, and Kili watched in fascination as his uncle stood up, holding his nephew’s sword outstretched before the fiend’s pitiless black eyes.

Bilbo hurried out of the way, making straight for Fili’s side, and Thorin raised the sword in the air.

“There will be no memorial to you, Azog. You have failed. And my family – will only grow stronger!”

Thorin sliced the sword across the pale orc’s neck in a single swing, severing the large head from the shoulders in one massive swoop.

Kili watched it drop to the floor in a red shower, and roll off the precipice, in to the liquid gold just five metres below.

Thorin dropped the sword and swayed slightly, seemingly dazed, before leaping over to Kili’s side.

“Fili, are you alright?”

Kili turned to his brother, lying on the floor with his injured shoulder to the ground. He slid his arms under Fili’s chest and helped him sit up on the tiles. His brother’s blue eyes were half shut, but he gave a half smile for his uncle.

“I’m fine, Thorin. It was all just part of the plan.”

Kili saw the blood pooling through Fili’s shirt, and shivered. He looked back to the room, searching for his elf, and saw her getting to her feet unsteadily. She met his gaze, and he saw her face fill with relief as she saw him smile at her.

Thorin viewed his nephew’s wound appraisingly, and turned to the hobbit. “Bilbo, do you have anything to use as a tourniquet? We need to stem the bleeding on his arm right away!”

Bilbo considered. “Here, use my jacket, Thorin.” The hobbit made to take his jacket off, but froze midway. “Uh, Thorin...?”

Kili followed the hobbit’s gaze past his brother’s blond braids and into the shadows beyond. Back towards the large entranceway, in the far corner of the room.

Rose was standing by a large, metal wheel, watching them with a scowl. As she realised they’d become aware of her presence she straightened herself, and trained her face back into the cold smile they’d grown so used to seeing. She raised her eyebrows at Kili, seeing his stony gaze.

“Well, my friends. Well fought. It seems my associate underestimated you.” She shrugged, not taking her hands off the wheel. “Not that it matters – in a few moments you’ll be dead anyway. All I have to do is turn this wheel...” She glared over at Tauriel, staring across the room at her bow, “and the floor area you’re sitting on will retract.” She grinned. “It’s not liquid gold under there – just a good old fashioned fire – but I think the end result will be close enough.”

The elf’s voice was icy. “Not if I put an arrow through your face you won’t.”

The dark-eyed woman smiled back at her. “Try it and see. You’ll never reach your weapon in time – whereas I’ll be out of the door before your friends have even started to burn”

Tauriel stared across at Kili, and he saw the question on her face. He knew she would go for it – what other option did they have now? She would try for her bow, and she would fail, and they would all of them die, just like the pale orc had promised.

Too late did he notice the floor tiles stretching around the golden pool. He could see now for what it was – an extendable floor – like he’d seen back in the Blue Mountains. The fire under the crucibles had to be serviced somehow. And the floor would rise as soon as Rose started turning the wheel, and tip them all into whatever was under there.

And it was hot enough to melt gold.

Kili gripped his brother tightly, hearing his laboured breathing suddenly stop as the pair of them stared at Rose.

He heard his uncle exhale sharply, understanding their predicament just as well as Kili did.

And beside his uncle, his jacket half-way off, the hobbit’s face was incredulous.

“Is she... does she...?”

The woman nodded. “Goodbye, Thorin – for the last time. I hope you burn in –”

The woman’s throat exploded into redness, as an arrow caught her in the middle of her jugular.

She dropped to her knees, her hands forgetting all about the service wheel as they clawed in vain at her leaking throat.

And from the corner behind her, a silver bow came clattering to the floor, and Kili noticed a skinny figure in a dripping white dress sloping out of the shadows. In his arms, he felt his brother whisper in surprise..

“Sigrid?” Fili tried to sit up further, his shoulder suddenly forgotten. A smile played about his lips. “Sigrid, is that you?”

The young woman stepped forwards, her grey-blue eyes wide with shock as she stared from the dying queen towards their party from across the silent room, searching for something. Her tawny hair hung long and dark about her face, dripping water onto the floor.

“Fili!”

She came tearing across the chamber towards them, and Kili wondered what she’d been doing in the forge room – and how a fisherman’s daughter came to learn to shoot an elven bow so well.

The spell broken, Tauriel laughed and stood smiled gratefully at the oncoming girl. Sigrid took her hand, and the pair of them half limped, half bounded over towards the waiting dwarves.

Kili helped his brother sit up fully, mindful of his damaged shoulder, and waited for the two ladies to reach them. He released Fili into Sigrid’s outstretched arms as she flung herself down to embrace him, and she buried her face in his with a sob.

The younger dwarf felt his elf’s hands on his shoulder, and he reached up for her with his cuffed hands.

“Kili, are you alright?” She knelt by his side, and took his face in her hands. “I won’t ever leave your side again, I swear to you, _amralime_.”

Kili closed his eyes as he felt Tauriel kiss him. Her lips were warm and tender, and her body was soft and comforting, and he let her presence drain the hurt and fear he still felt coursing through his veins.

And when they finally broke away from each other, he saw his uncle smiling at them both, sitting there arm-in-arm with the hobbit.

Thorin nodded towards to the doorway. “My lady, we should attend to your friend – I fear the pale orc may have done him some damage, and I wish to thank him when he awakens. I am grateful to an elf such as him for... for fighting with us.” He smiled at her sheepishly. “Just like I need to thank you, Tauriel.”

The elf-maid smiled. “Believe me, Thorin – I would fight the gods themselves for your nephew.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “I believe you would, my lady.”

Fili turned to his uncle, his left arm gripping Sigrid tightly. “Thorin, there’s still the fighting in Dale – we must help Bard and the others. The Laketown people need us.”

Thorin considered. “Not you, Fili. You will sit this one out with Sigrid and Bilbo. Why don’t you assist Tauriel’s friend?” The dwarf king stood up, and gestured to Kili and Tauriel. “Are you ready to finish this?”

Kili nodded. As long as Tauriel was coming too, he would go anywhere. “Just cut these cuffs and give me a sword, and I will kill every orc I see standing.”

Thorin nodded, and looked to the elf-maid, cradling his youngest nephew. He knew he didn’t have to ask – she’d proved her loyalty to Kili beyond doubt – but he wanted her to know he was sincere about his gratitude.

“And you, my lady? Will you fight for Erebor?”

Tauriel looked at the dwarf-king appraisingly. “I will fight for Kili, always. But if Erebor will accept me, and let me honour that love – then it truly is something worth defending. And then I will fight with you for Erebor until my last breath.”

The dwarf-king smiled. “Then Erebor welcomes you with open arms, Tauriel.” He turned his blue eyes to the doorway leading back to the main gates and frowned. “Come, let’s finish this battle and free our people.”

 


	13. What Dreams may come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel heads into Dale with Thorin and Kili

Tauriel rushed through the gloomy passageways with Kili and Thorin by her side – and this time, she could breathe more easily. Fili hadn’t known which way to go once they’d entered the mountain, and it had been pure luck they’d taken stairs that had led straight to the forge room. She shuddered to think what would have happened if they’d taken a different route.

But none of that mattered now. Nothing was going to stop her fighting by Kili’s side to smite his enemies and reclaim his kingdom, and hopefully she could prove once and for all – to all his friends and family, and everyone else with a grudge against her kind – that she was their ally.

Ignoring the pain in her ribs, she sped on. She’d taken quite a hit from Azog, and no doubt someone would need to look at it later – but for now, as long as she could keep pace and draw her weapons she was ready for anything.

The three of them hurried on past the great hall, standing deserted and empty even as the braziers in the corners blazed away. There was nobody left inside. The room was as silent as a tomb, save for the ghostly echoes of their footsteps.

She felt suddenly unnerved by the solitude and silence, and called out to her companions – wishing to break the brittle emptiness of the room and lift its oppressive gloom.

“How much further to go?”

Thorin turned to her and pointed with his sword straight ahead. “Not far. The gate lies around the next corner.”

And as the three of them reached the bend at last, Tauriel began to hear the first sounds of the war raging outside. Muffled shouting and scuffling movements, mixed with the sharp smack of metal on metal – all flowing in a disjointed stream of noise from the city streets outside.

She looked anxiously over at Kili, worried that he might be more injured than he was letting on. It was hard not to notice the deep, etched wounds across Thorin’s back and shoulders – although the dwarf king appeared to pay them no heed. And though she couldn’t see evidence of similar harsh treatment on Kili’s skin, she had no doubt he would try and hide his hurts from her the same way his uncle did.

They passed into the entrance hall – finding the gate raised high and open, with no one in attendance at the watchman’s post.

Kili slowed, and stared closely at the gate mechanism. “We should set the gears in motion and shut the gate. We don’t want any orcs stumbling around inside Erebor, do we?”

Thorin tilted his head to the side, his eyes tracing the route they’d just come, obviously mindful of those they’d left in the forge room.

“We can’t, Kili. It would be cutting off an escape route we might need later.” Thorin frowned, cursing his lack of foresight. “We should have brought Bilbo or Sigrid with us to mind the gate.”

Tauriel raised her eyebrows. “I think they’re both needed in the forge room to keep my friend and your kinsman from each other’s throats.”

Kili shook his head. “No way, Fili will behave himself with Sigrid around. You’ll see.”

Thorin gestured to the two of them impatiently. “Are you two ready? Follow behind me, both of you. And wait for my signal before you do anything rash.”

The dwarf king stepped forward cautiously, passing under the grate with his sword crossed defensively over his chest, and Tauriel and Kili followed close behind him.

Just before they reached the cold, sunless daylight, she felt her dwarven lover give her arm a squeeze.

“Stay close to me. Don’t you leave me alone here.”

“Never, Kili.”

And as the noise of the battle in Dale fully hit her ears, she gritted her teeth and readied herself for the onslaught. Blinking her eyes after so long underground, she rushed forward on Kili’s right side, her sword readied to defend herself and her companions from any enemies foolish enough to get too close.

But the dwarf king slowed to a sudden halt, his black hair blowing in the wind as he stood scanning the buzzing streets in perplexity.

The orc army had evidently been taken by surprise. Not many of their number remained standing, and those that were left had been caught between two fronts. The tall, blond Mirkwood guard had encircled them from the upper reaches of Dale, while Dwalin’s dwarves had stormed them from the lower parts of town – marching straight through the ranks of the Laketown folk, and shielding them from the frontlines of the fight.

“It seems the battle is won, my lord.” Tauriel gazed in wonder at the elven fighting machine, seeing four elves she had once commanded working together to casually bring down a massive white orc at the centre of the bloody resistance. “Your people and mine have made short work of our enemy.”

Thorin turned round and smiled faintly, but Tauriel saw the disappointment sag on his shoulders. “So it would seem.” He studied the main street, eyeing up a group of big grey orcs that were harassing some young men at the mouth of a side street. One of the larger ones was lashing at the youths with a multi-tongued whip, seeming to delight in the violence he could still inflict, even though he must have known his side could not now win this fight.

Thorin motioned towards the horde. “Would you care to join me in a bit of cleaning up?”

Tauriel saw Kili’s face stiffen in disgust at the sight of the big grey orcs, and she wondered suddenly if he recognised them. “Count me in.”

“Just remember – the big one is mine.” Thorin turned his bright blue eyes back towards them both, his expression dark. “He should be expecting me.”

And with an ululating battle cry that Tauriel couldn’t have pronounced in all of the seven ages, the dwarf king led their charge down the hill towards the orc pack.

The fell beasts didn’t even notice their approach, so engrossed were they with tormenting their quarry, who tried in vain to defend themselves from the orcs with sticks and branches from a fallen tree. Tauriel guessed they weren’t much older than teenagers, and probably hadn’t even held a weapon before – let alone been attacked by an orc horde wielding swords, spears and knives.

Thorin ran right behind the biggest of the orcs, as the creature raised its whip in the air to strike at the men. “Remember me, _friend_?”

The orc missed the swing and wheeled round, suddenly keenly aware of the challenger at his exposed back – but it was too late. Thorin swung his sword deftly around the orc’s belly, spilling its bowels onto the stone cobbles in a foul-smelling gush.

Its three surviving comrades instantly switched their attention to the incomers, and Tauriel smiled grimly, keeping her focus on her opponents despite the awful stench of fetid orc guts steaming on the side street. She selected one on the edge of the pack, and raised her sword as if to strike from the right, watching with a cool detachment as it mirrored her move defensively. She neatly stepped backwards on her left foot, anticipating her opponent’s error, and sliced at its chest with an upthrust from the left. It was all too easy.

She saw Kili and Thorin were making good progress on the other two orcs, opting for a heart-stopping slice through the upper ribcage and a straight-out decapitation, respectively. She was impressed at the dwarves’ speed and accuracy, given their diminutive stature next to the big orcs – and relieved they’d avoided spilling any more of the disgusting entrails on the streets of Dale.

That left just one of the orcs before them, which by rights should belong to Thorin, she supposed. The dwarf king turned his blue eyes coldly onto the sneering orc, his face and chest covered with the sprayed blood of its fallen comrades. He was clearly loving every minute of it.

He raised his sword in both hands, waiting for his opponent to make a move – any move – so he could parry it back and upon them – but without warning, the orc’s eyes glazed over and it crashed to the ground at Thorin’s feet.

A polished steel battle-axe lay buried deep within the back of its skull.

“Och, I’m sorry Thorin – were you wanting that one for yourself?” Dwalin came running up to retrieve his axe, an apologetic smirk on his face. “I didnae see you there.”

The gruff-voiced dwarf made straight for his king, and Tauriel watched as they smashed their fists together affectionately. “I’m glad to see you again, Thorin, I’ll tell you that.” Dwalin turned to Kili and Tauriel, his smile deepening. “And you as well, Kili. My lady.” He bowed slightly to the elf, and Tauriel felt herself grinning back too, as she looked around and saw there were no more orcs left living in sight.

They’d won. And Kili was safe beside her. She gave him a joyful glance, and shone in delight as he strode towards her purposefully.

“Tauriel,” he took her face firmly, and guided her down to his level with his warm hands – and in front of them all, he kissed her with a rough passion that she’d never felt from him before. His lips were desperate and hungry for her, and she threw her arms around him, dropping her sword on the ground so she could draw his body closer to her breast.

His lips lingered on hers a second longer, before he broke away. “Is it over now?” He looked at her solemnly, with the orange and green glints in his eyes sparkling just for her, and Tauriel had to think for a second, afraid she was only dreaming.

“Yes, my love. We don’t have anything to fear anymore.”

She heard a cough from behind her, and turned round to face Thorin and Dwalin.

Dwalin was looking at them in bewilderment, as if waiting for Thorin’s rage to rain down on them all – but the dwarf king just smiled wistfully at them both. “Well fought, both of you. You... worked well together.”

Tauriel smiled graciously at his compliment, and nodded her head in thanks. “It was my pleasure, my lord. Your kingdom – and your people – are worth defending, and it is upon my honour to do so.”

Thorin nodded gravely, and opened his mouth to reply – but then something else caught his attention.

Tauriel saw Bard approaching, flanked by a sturdy blond elf carrying a long silver sword. Blood coated its sharp edges, and she recognised the elf as Legolas’ friend, Amonion. She’d partnered him many a time during their Mirkwood guard swordplay.

He nodded at her curtly as they approached the party of dwarves, no doubt having witnessed her and Kili’s display of affection moments previous. She stifled a giggle, feeling a wonderful happiness bubbling within her as the realisation dawned in her that she didn’t actually care. She rested her chin on the top of Kili’s head, and watched her old friend approach the dwarves with an unexpected indifference.

“Thorin – you’re alive.” Bard extended his hand to the dwarf king, who shook it immediately. The man nodded to Kili and Tauriel, and looked around hesitantly. “And Fili?”

“Injured. He’s in the forge room – along with Tauriel’s elven friend.” Tauriel saw both the man and elf were startled by this, but Thorin shook his head dismissively. “They’ll be fine – don’t worry. They’re being tended to by your daughter, Bard.”

The man raised his blue eyes to Thorin, relief all over his face. “With Sigrid? So she’s alright? Nobody could find her – she wasn’t with the others.”

“She’s safe, Bard. How have the rest of your people fared?”

The man regarded the streets, where the men and women of Laketown were already starting to pile the dead orc carcasses high in a heap. “There have been some casualties, of course. But not many. Our friends – elf and dwarf alike – have spared us much mischief today. My people and I will be forever grateful.”

The blond elf spoke up, studiously avoiding looking at Tauriel. “We thank you for your recognition, Bard. But if my lords will excuse me, I must ask you to show me to Legolas immediately. We have trained healers among our guards, and he must be examined at once for – ”

“Is that your boy there?” Dwalin pointed back towards the gates, squinting his eyes. “With Fili and Bilbo?”

They all turned to look, and Tauriel felt a rush of gratitude at the sight of her old friend stepping gingerly down the cobbles, one hand to his head as if the light was hurting his eyes. Beside him, Sigrid and Bilbo were keeping a close hand on Fili, as he limped his way towards them from Erebor, the hobbit’s coat wrapped tightly around his damaged shoulder.

Thorin scowled angrily. “I told them to stay out of harm’s way!”

“Uncle, the battle is over – they’re not in harm’s way.” Kili laughed, waving a hand towards his brother, beckoning them over. “And besides, it seems to me that everyone else is out here – we should get the healers to set up inside one of the buildings in Dale.”

Bard nodded his agreement. “It’s been done, Kili. Your friend, Óin, is working with our wise women already.” He screwed his face up as he saw the bloody welts lapping around Thorin’s shoulders. “Maybe you should join the queue yourself, Thorin – those look like nasty injuries.”

Thorin stood thoughtful – looking over at Kili wrapped up in Tauriel’s arms, and Fili – propped up by Sigrid as they approached. “These are just scratches, Bard. It could have been worse.” He smiled, seeing Bilbo break into a trot towards them. “Those whom we love are safe, and that is all that matters.”

Kili cleared his throat pointedly, and Tauriel saw Thorin shift on his feet in discomfort. The dwarf king continued. “Of course, there _are_ other important matters...” he nodded towards Fili and Sigrid. “And we must discuss them soon, Bard.”

Dwalin frowned. “But what will we eat over winter, Thorin? We still need Dain and his food. Some of his troops were among the casualties here today. He will want repayment.”

Bard shook his head. “But not with my daughter. The deal is off. Her intended husband is dead – seems Rose wasn’t the forgiving sort, after all.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, disgusted at the mere mention of the woman, and the man arched his eyebrows. “It appears that my daughter is free to marry whoever she chooses, Thorin.” He eyed Sigrid affectionately, as her little band drew closer.

Bilbo was the first to arrive, making for Thorin and hugging him tightly. Sigrid seemed unsure about leaving Fili’s side, but as she saw her father waiting for her she ran into his arms with a squeal. “Da’, I missed you! Are Tilda and Bain – ”

“They’re fine, Sigrid.”

Tauriel let go of Kili, allowing him to rush to his brother’s assistance – wrapping an arm round Fili’s waist to steady him and guide him over towards their group.

The elf left them to it, taking a few paces back up the hill towards her erstwhile comrade, and seeing the hurt on his face as he watched her step away from her dark-haired dwarven lover.

She addressed him in elvish, and saw Amonion turn sharply at her words – obviously worrying she would upset their mutual friend.

“ _Legolas, you fought nobly. I am forever in your debt_.” She crossed her arm across her chest. “ _Are you hurt?”_

The blond elf shook his head solemnly. “ _There is no lasting damage, my lady_.” He gestured loosely around at the assembled men and dwarves. “ _Come and return with me to Mirkwood, Tauriel. You know you can never be truly happy to live here amongst these... people. They will never understand you. You can never be who you truly are with them.”_

Tauriel shook her head. “ _You are wrong. It is only here – with them – that I can be truly happy, Legolas. These people are good and they have much they can teach me_.” She spoke from the heart, but Legolas rolled his eyes.

“ _You love him, don’t you? That dwarf with the dark hair. But what does he know of the ages of the world? Of the wind and the rain, or the sun and the stars? He is but an ignorant and graceless child, and when you realise that, you will long to come home_.”

Tauriel smiled. “ _He is my home. And my stars. A union of differences is stronger than joining the same on same, Legolas. I hope one day you will see that for yourself_.”

Legolas bowed to her sadly. “ _If you will not come with us, then I must bid you farewell. And may the gods grant you the happiness you claim to have found_.” He gestured to Amonion. “ _Gather the troops, and bring the wounded on horseback. We will return to my father’s kingdom before nightfall_.”

The sturdy elf bowed to his prince, and glanced coldly at Tauriel. “ _May you live hereafter in peace , my lady_.”

Tauriel smiled softly. “ _The same to you, my friend.”_ She studied Legolas, wondering what to say to someone she would certainly miss in the many days to come. “ _This kingdom is not a distant land, Legolas. You do not need to be a stranger to me.”_

The elf shook his head. “ _I will speak to my father, Tauriel, and I will have him send food supplies to this place for the winter. I will do this because I do not want these children to starve – and I will do it because I am your friend. But do not ask me to come here again_.”

She shook her head, sadly. “ _Thank you for everything, Legolas. I have always been – and always will be – your friend.”_

He gave her a stern look, his face rigid and unreadable, and nodded slightly. “ _Goodbye then, friend.”_

And the elf spun round gracefully on his heels, his pale hair spinning about his head, and strutted off to rejoin his countrymen. Tauriel felt a mixture of sadness and relief as he walked away from her, and watched him for a moment until she felt Kili’s arm encircle her waist.

“That sounded serious.”

Tauriel nodded, watching as the elves of Mirkwood gathered their gear together, about to leave her here forever. “Yes, it was.” She turned round to the others, and realised most of them had been listening in on her conversation.

Dwalin pointed at the distant elf. “That lad has a crush on you. It’s obvious even to me.” Kili scowled over at the older dwarf, and Thorin shook his head in warning, but Tauriel shrugged.

“He says he will speak to his father, who will send us food supplies to last out winter.”

Dwalin looked at her blankly. “And who’s his father?”

Thorin clapped Dwalin on the back, and smiled indulgently. “Nobody you would care for, my friend – but it seems the king of Mirkwood might need an invitation sending to our forthcoming wedding celebrations!”

Dwalin stared at Thorin. “And who’s getting married now? ”

Tauriel felt herself blush as Thorin smiled warmly at her, sweeping his eyes around everyone in their little circle. “As the reigning king of Erebor – who from now on _very_ much intends to remain unmarried– I must insist that my heirs take up their duties to further my house’s line.” He stared at Kili and Fili in turn. “You have my _insistent_ permission to marry whomsoever your hearts may desire.”

Tauriel saw Kili’s face flush, and he stared down at the ground. “Do you mean that, uncle?”

Thorin nodded. “Of course. Time grows short and we die too soon. Why waste those happy opportunities that do come our way?” He gestured to Bard, who had one arm resting protectively on his daughter’s shoulder. “What do you think, my lord? I think we have a rare opportunity here to make a new kind of kingdom, one that honours the unity our peoples’ once shared – and extends it – to make us all stronger.”

The man regarded his daughter, staring over at the blond dwarf, and nodded. “I think you’re right, Thorin. And what better way to celebrate that unity than by my daughter taking your nephew’s hand in marriage?”

Tauriel held Kili tighter, and smiled as she watched his blond brother. Fili’s face turned from Sigrid to Thorin in a daze, as if he still didn’t believe his uncle. He looked to Bard at last, his eyes shining.

“I love your daughter, my lord. And it is all I want to make her my wife, and do my best to make her happy – til the end of my days.”

Thorin raised his eyebrow at Fili. “There’s just one condition I have. And this goes for you too, Kili.”

Kili shared a hesitant glance with his brother. “And what’s that, uncle?”

Thorin laughed. “You must wait until summer, so your mother can be here for the celebrations. It’s a long way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor.” He shrugged at Bard with a sideways smile. “She’ll string me up if she misses it.”

“Aye, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Dis.” Dwalin drew his finger across his neck pointedly. “She’s got a bit of a thing for knives.”

Kili snorted, and rolled his eyes at Tauriel. “Because she likes cooking! And carpentry.”

Dwalin shook his head portentously. “No, I saw her pull one out on her brother here once. Gave him a black eye too.”

Thorin waved his hand in irritation. “She thought I’d snubbed her fiancé. I made it up to her.”

Fili nodded hastily, obviously keen to change the subject. “Of course we’ll wait for her, Thorin. Is that it?” He looked to Sigrid, and saw her smiling at his excitement. “Do we have your blessing to marry?”

Thorin sighed, and met his oldest nephew’s grey-blue eyes with a serious look. “Only if you get yourself to a healer in the next three minutes, Fili. I won’t have you losing the use of your sword arm, and Sigrid will have no use for such a husband either!”

The blond dwarf looked awkwardly around, and his tawny-haired lover came at once to take his left arm. “Let’s go – I know where they’ll be. I’ll take you, Fili.”

He allowed her to lead him away, watching her tenderly as she weaved their way carefully in and out of the people passing by – ever mindful of his injury – until Tauriel lost sight of them both in the crowd.

The hobbit looked at the dwarf king quizzically. “You know, you should go too, Thorin. Your back will lose its flexibility if those scars don’t heal properly.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Where is Óin? And the rest of our company?”

Dwalin pointed to where Fili and Sigrid had just gone. “Down there, near the healer’s tent. I’ll show you.”

Bard nodded to Thorin. “We will speak tonight, Thorin. My people will do what we can to empty the streets of the dead, and if it pleases you, we will retreat inside Erebor after dark. I say tonight we hold a proper feast – one that the whole town can share in – and start our future anew in celebration together.”

Thorin stared back at the gates of Erebor, his face sad all of a sudden. “Yes, Bard, you are right. There will be no more missed chances at peace. This celebration shall be for everyone – just as Erebor shall be a kingdom for us all.”

He scanned the faces of those that were left, his jaw set firm. “I am sorry to you all for the trouble I have caused by allowing myself to be flattered and deceived. It is not beautiful trinkets or ostentatious displays that make a king powerful – it is the strength of his judgement. And I failed the first test.” He looked into the eyes of each of them in turn. “But I will not fail you again, my friends.”

And with that, the dwarf king turned to catch up with his nephew further down the street- flanked by Bilbo and Dwalin on either side.

Bard regarded Kili and Tauriel with a wry smile. “And what are your plans now, my soon-to-be kin?”

Tauriel considered. “I think some sleep would be nice.”

Kili nodded. “That sounds like a great idea. I missed my bed more than anything last night.” He noticed Tauriel’s curious glance and corrected himself. “More than _almost_ anything, I mean.”

Bard smiled to himself, and looked around at all the people milling through the streets, as if searching for someone. He bowed to the pair of them. “Then I will give you my leave, my friends. I will see you later – I’m sure. Enjoy your _sleep_.” He winked a blue eye at Kili, and made to catch up with a dark-haired woman who waved to him happily.

Kili stepped slowly and wearily back to Tauriel. “He thinks we’re joking.” The dwarf yawned. “I wish we were.”

She shook her head. “The day is young, Kili.” She looked around, taking in the cold, refreshingly damp air and the excited, happy people darting to and fro all around her. The day felt fresh with new beginnings, and for the first time since she’d met him, she felt suddenly secure in their future together.

All the obstacles were over. There was nothing that could part them now.

She smiled slowly. “This day is just beginning.” And she took him by the hand, and led him back into Erebor where they could lie a while undisturbed.

 

***   ***   ***

 

All afternoon the throngs of people broke and reassembled on the streets, surging together to greet old friends and new, or cleaning and carrying the accumulated detritus of the second wave of bloodshed to be unleashed upon their quiet town. Some of them were sad and broken, and fearful of the new future that beckoned through the eye of the winter snows – whilst others rejoiced in the promised resurrection from the ashes into a shared new land full of promise and hope.

And some of them slept deeply, oblivious to the frenetic energy of the restless streets as they lay still in their darkened worlds of dreams and peace. They never noticed the clouds parting in the silver skies to show the gleaming sun beaming down on the brave survivors as the storm ceased, but they did see other sights from other worlds that only appear as visible to the mind.

And one such dreamer was the elf with the rare red hair, curled up asleep with the one she loved, keeping him close under guard even in her wearied state, with one pale hand across his waist, and her head on his heart.

Her dreaming took her far away, into a place where time and light couldn’t follow, but even as she struggled to see through the creeping blackness, her eyes were once more assailed by a brightness that poured itself through the gaps in her conscious thoughts and reflected itself in rotating patterns made of gentle, rosy tones.

_Tauriel_ , _I wanted to know how you feel about my new tapestry. Does this one fit more in line with your expectations and desires?_

The elf recognised the voice, but could see no face this time in the backdrop of swirling shapes that danced before her eyes.

“Yes, my lady. This version is much improved – if you don’t mind me saying. I can be together with Kili, and his family are safe from harm. The kingdom of Erebor lies secure, and the people of Laketown have a new home.”

_And what about those that died, Tauriel? Was it worth it to them? Or do you not care about the cost to others?_

The elf swallowed. She did indeed feel guilt for those who’d died to create this world, but it did not outweigh her relief that those whom she loved had lived – and she wasn’t sorry for it either.

“My lady, I care about all life, and I take no pleasure in death – not even in the deaths of my enemies. But I do feel relief. And I do feel hope. And those qualities were not present in your other version. Not for me, and not for the many. But now, in this world, we can come together and build a future for ourselves, as one people, and I think even those who have died would recognise the value in that.”

The radiant patterns spun faster around her, and the glowing light softened momentarily. She had the impression that the light was laughing at her, but her ears heard no sound.

_You found the manuscripts in the library. You read the elvish writing. But you told nobody their secrets. So tell me, Tauriel, do you think such history existed in my ‘other version’ of your world – or did I change a great deal of things for you to get what you wanted?_

Tauriel thought back to the strange writings she’d found with Ori – the writings of an elfmaid like herself, from a lowly background in the Mirkwood Forest, who had married one of the dwarves of Erebor. Not a prince, in this instance. Just a stone mason.

But her testimony had described her happy marriage in very candid terms, as if such a union was not uncommon in the early days of the mountain kingdom. Tauriel had wondered why she had never heard talk of this lady before, and where she was now – but she’d guessed that she herself couldn’t be the only elf that Thranduil had banished over the years. Maybe Erebor had always been the natural destination for those of her kind who weren’t afraid of making hard choices. Before the dragon fire had all but destroyed its cosmopolitan culture, built on commerce and trade.

“I think she always existed, my lady. You didn’t change deep history just to enable this world to exist – it always did exist – we had just forgotten it. But now the world is ready to remember again.”

_The world is never ready to remember, Tauriel. You have to make it remember, and make it change, through your own efforts. You and Kili must make it change. That is why you have been given this chance. Because a darkness is coming, but it is only in darkness that we grow towards the light. Remember that, and be that light, and you shall always have our blessings._

The elf frowned. She didn’t know what the light was asking her to do, but she understood it was permitting her to stay with Kili, and that was good enough.

She felt suddenly confused, as if all her thoughts were fragmenting like fracturing ice, and the light was starting to dim all around her. A strange whistling was in her ears, giving her the startling sensation of hurtling past vast spaces and stars in the blinking of an eye.

_Good luck, Tauriel. I will be relying on you to help me weave this tapestry..._

And the whistling in her ears intensified, to the point where it almost hurt. A pressure was building in her ears, as if she was deep underwater where the waves ran cold and dark. But as soon as she thought about the pain, it was gone, and the whistling stopped.

She was in her bed again. Beside Kili.

The woollen blanket was loosely draped over her waist, and her long, red hair hung over her face – but even so, she could see the traces of grey daylight peeping under the shutters they’d set across the window, hoping to keep the last traces of afternoon light away while they rested. And Kili slept beside her, his breathing steady and even, and his body warm and vital lying beside her.

Everything was as it should be.

She shut her eyes – and snuggled closer to him – and waited for the real dreams to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's me done. I hope it wasn't too long a story - I am actually a bit shocked at the wordcount. But it was fun to write, and thanks for reading! :)


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